Roses Black
by Shireen Mclean
Summary: Subtitled: Catenatus de Rosa Furvus. How do you define the ever thinning line between what is Light and what is Dark? In his fifth year, Harry toes the line, dangerously close to breaking it. NEWERChapter 5-White Roses Red
1. Of Changes and Song

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Okie dokie, here are Harry and Draco, presenting: The Disclaimer!

Harry and Draco walk out, glaring at the author, "We didn't ask to do this!" Draco exclaims. 

"Oh stuff it, Malfoy. If I have to work with you, I might as well get it over with! Now, ahem, Shireen does NOT own any of this, except for that girl named Luscinia, who I DON'T LIKE."

Draco grins, "Yeah, J.K Rowling owns it all, really. Warner Brothers, Scholastic and Bloomsbury publishing own it too. I think that's it. Potter, what are you doing?" 

Harry, who was climbing up onto the Astronomy tower of Hogwarts rolls his eyes and sits down on the roof, "I'm getting ready for the story you dolt! You'd best get to the library before Shireen does something…bad." 

Draco squeaks and runs off to the library.

The author smirks at Harry, "You love to get him going don't you?"

And now, without further adeu, Roses Black, a fanfic of epic proportions. 

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I was young once, you were too.

I've cried many a time, and smiled too.

I have friends, do you?

I think at night,

I like to sleep,

But I have nightmares,

So I stay awake.

These are my thoughts.

Chapter 1: Of Changes and Songs

A boy sat on the rooftop of the Astronomy tower of Hogwarts. He had wandered there to think, and get away from the questioning glances and words of the Hogwarts professors. The pale, silvery moonlight fell around him in such a way that made him look like a thing of the night. His dark hair fell across one of his bright green eyes in a sweeping of ash coloured wildness. His pale skin was illuminated against his dark backdrop and his lithe frame was toned and gracefully slender. At the moment, dressed in all black, he looked beautiful, like something that came from the very darkness itself. Though Harry Potter was not evil, just alluringly dark.

He had grown from the scrawny, pale boy he once was. The old image to be replaced by a more grown-up form. Though he was still slender, he was also toned and had muscle structure, a seekers build. 

A warm summer breeze ran through his hair, tossing the black tendrils about his head. It succeeded in messing up his already wild hair. He supposed that his growth spurt had been a natural part of growing up, after all, his voice was unpleasantly squeaky at times. _Things change,_ he had told himself, _people do too._ How very right he was. He was at Hogwarts for the summer, and had been ever since the Dursleys had kicked him out. _No skin of my back. _He had thought in a melancholy way as he was picked up by members of the ministry and taken to where he was now.

The downside, at least in _his _opinion was the fact that Draco Malfoy was also at Hogwarts over the summer. Why or how? Only Dumbledore knew. Harry _did_ know that he didn't like it one bit. There was also that girl at the castle. Now he definitely did _not_ like her. She was very pale, with pale blonde hair and black eyes. She creeped him out, and she constantly hung around that Malfoy git. If he remembered correctly, her name was Luscinia. She didn't have a last name as far as he knew. But then, he avoided _her _at all costs. There was just this aura around her; it told him she was no good.

Sighing slightly, Harry peered up at the twinkling stars and sighed. _The night is so beautiful,_ he thought, reaching up a hand as if he could touch the sky. He had no way of knowing that he was the night, beautiful and in constant change.

*

He glanced over his book at the pale haired girl sitting across from him. Luscinia was a puzzle. One he did not care to solve. Draco Malfoy remained as snobby and aristocratic as always as he put the book down, leaned back on the chair, and put his leather booted feet on the table. Luscinia glared at him from under the fringe of her hair that swept gingerly off to one side.

"You know, I really don't appreciate your feet in my face, Draco. And as much as I _love_ you,' her voice dripped sarcasm, 'I really don't want your expensive leather boots on the table where I work. So, if you please feet, table, off, _now_."

Draco sighed, "Luscinia, I'm touched!" His voice was dramatic and overly sardonic as he placed his hands over his heart melodramatically. 

"Drama queen," the black eyed girl said, turning her eyes back to the parchment she was writing on.

"Har, har." Draco joked as he started to take his feet from the table. He overbalanced and fell backward in a frazzled clash of books and a very annoyed Draco Malfoy.

Luscinia looked over at him innocently, her eyes big and 'surprised.' Draco knew, for that was a face he used frequently, that she had done it.

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Damn those half-Vampires! he thought whilst getting to his feet, forgetting Luscinia was even there at all.

"I heard that oh mighty fallen one, and you know as well as I do, that its to late." Her voice held sarcastic truth, though Draco ignored it and rolled his eyes. He swaggered around the table to look at what she had been writing; it was a poem.

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The black rose grows

Nourished by blood.

Its petals are 

Silken, velvet, and

Deadly-

It stopped there, Draco bent down and looked up at her, concerned, "You know, when you write poems like that, people will start to figure out what you are." He was inches from her face as he said this; she looked back into his eyes without flinching.

"I'm only half-vampire, I don't kill, I can go out in the sun, and blood just isn't my thing. So really, if someone _did_ find out, I wouldn't be worried."

Draco knew how well Luscinia was hiding her feelings, she was good at that, and so was he, though his resolve was breaking. He leaned in closer to her an inch away, maybe less.

"You know, a wise person once said," she looked at him, her face giving nothing away, but her eyes lingered on his lips, "Oh sod that." He got up quickly and walked away, peering at the many Darkarts books on the restricted section's shelves. Luscinia had followed him.

"Oh sod that? I hardly doubt a wise person said _that. What did you want to say?" _Those six words bit down on him slowly, he could never say that, ever. Draco looked up at her childlike expression.

Her silver hair was so like his own, yet hardly close, and her pale skin was a match to his, for different reasons. But her black eyes bored into him like only Harry Potter's could. That thought scared him. She was dressed all in white, with a forest green cloak over those clothes. She had a pale, gothic beauty, much like his own he presumed.

"If you want wise words, go see some old codger with a beard. I'm just Draco Malfoy, here for your viewing pleasure."

She rolled her eyes at him and left, obviously angry. The pale boy collapsed on a shelf filled with old potion books. Draco didn't like to make her mad, but it was unavoidable. He _had_ almost kissed her. His walls had crumbled, but he couldn't tell that to her. Not that he had walls concerning Luscinia, not at all. 

He recollected why he had been brought to Hogwarts this summer. He really didn't like to think about what the Headmaster had told him, so he rarely did. But as he sunk lower, to the floor, he couldn't help the memories from flooding back. He pushed those hateful thoughts away, thinking about something else.

He'd been greatly amused to see Potter at the castle, but also rather shocked at the boy's looks. Harry had grown taller, but had not become lanky like his best friend the red headed weasel. He had acquired a dark, fathomless look that few could achieve; Draco himself was still working on it. The boy had also acquired a gothic fashion sense. He dressed, frequently, in black and the dark coloured ( blood red, forest green and black) cloaks and the stylish leather that he sometimes wore had surprised even Dumbledore.

Draco still resented Harry, but it appeared that he would just have to stick it out.

***

Luscinia walked, ran was more like it, from the library up to the south tower, then (after casting a silencing charm), promptly, screamed.

Draco Malfoy could be so infuriating at times. The boy was fathomless and beautiful. But so, so, SO difficult.

She had known him since she was eight, and liked him for a few years now. But it eluded her as to how he could be so damn clueless. Back in the library when he had almost kissed her, she had felt scared, surprised, and a little bit excited. It's not past a half vampire to feel as a human does, they actually feel emotions more so then most of us. Half vampires or semi-lamiae are considered humans with special powers, not really sired by a Vampire at all. (Though this proves untrue for a half Vampire is a human with vampiric blood). She thought back to when she had been 'made.' Her creator, Furvus, had bashed her up against a tree and shoved his wrist to her mouth. Shehad lapped up the sweet blood, thus, concidering that she hadn't been drained first, became a _Semi Lamiae_.

It confused her to no end to see Draco act as so dispassionate about the whole situation. She really wanted to smack him and then at the same time, she wanted to kiss him. 

She hadn't wanted to come to Hogwarts in the first place; she had liked her vampiric tutelage just fine. But the silver haired man, Dumblebee, or something of the sort, had insisted. So, whether for her, or for Draco, she had come. She had no dark secret, except maybe that she thought that she loved Draco Malfoy. But what girl doesn't, Hermione Granger excluded. 

Leaning against the stone balcony, she saw with surprise and amusement, Harry Potter.

He was atop the astronomy (west) tower, how he got there was lost on her, wrapped in a veil of silken night. He really looked more like the seductive vampire from popular myth then she did. But Harry Potter was _not _a Vampire. _Was he?_

***

Dumbledore looked out of his window and saw, with some hilarity, all three of his summer time residents out on the south, west, and east towers. It was beyond him to try and punish them; they would only deny it, though maybe Harry wouldn't.

The boy was different, it stood to reason, _anyone_ would be _different_ after what he had gone through

Luscinia was new, un-trodden ground. Like the newly formed full moon she stood, watching the stars. Her pale skin held a nightly glow, like the waxed moon. She could be trusted, but her feelings were all too teenage.

Draco, now he was a problem. The pale boy had just walked out onto the east tower, looking over at the other two, a sad gleam in his frosty eyes. Dumbledore chuckled, "So it _has_ begun."

***

Harry looked around him, his hand on the roof, steadying his weight. He saw the girl, Luscinia, off in one of the towers, and Draco Malfoy in another. 

Luscinia's long silver hair was blowing in the breeze, sweeping out to her right side along with her cloak. He couldn't see her eyes, so he wasn't all too creeped out. She was dressed in white and green, and looked angelic, Harry allowed himself a smirk as he thought that. That girl was _anything _but an angel. How incredibly right he was. Harry heard a faint whisper on the wind and turned to the direction of Draco Malfoy.

Draco was watching Luscinia; his hair also blown upon the warm breeze, dressed all in black he looked pale and dark all at the same time. Harry had felt his smirk fade as he looked at Malfoy. The boy was unreadable from this far away, but Harry could feel sadness coming off him in waves, it was unnerving. Draco was perceptibly part of the night, much like Harry, though he didn't know it yet. Harry decided that this summer would be awful quite early on, he wouldn't be disappointed, though it would be horrible in it's own ways, not to be expected.

Harry let the pale moonlight wash over him, bathing him in its silver light, wakening things deep inside of him. 

***

Draco sighed as he gazed at the fair apparition of Luscinia. She was angry with him, he knew. The girl had let her long hair down, it reached her waist, but at the moment, it was blown to her side, along with her cloak. Draco was depressed over the fact that he had to be in this infernal castle all year long, maybe even until he finished his magical education. He was also saddened over the fact the girl he kept away was getting closer, and he could barley stop it. 

"Child of the moonlight, daughter of the night, why do you taunt me so?" His voice was barely a whisper, but Draco sensed a pair of eyes on the side of his head. He turned to see Potter, turning away from him, the moonlight washing over the black haired boy's slender yet muscular form. 

Draco really had to admire that, though he would never admit it, Harry could be anything he wanted to be. He had grown into his looks, and could be a bright and happy part of the day. _But_, he reasoned, Harry Potter was unmistakably kindred, a thing of the darkness, though not entirely good, he was no where near being evil. Draco did not know that he was like Harry, in more ways then one, but he did know that Harry was special, and that was the first step to recovery.

***

All three of them looked up in surprise as a song ran through the air, it was sharp and true, free of pain, yet incredibly sad. The words were old and rang through the sky like a dusty violin.

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Diei quod eoacc postremo,

Malus fiendo insugi.

Aprepabl fiendo tendo evinco,

Orca ualeo semel. 

Illa fiendo ualeo saepenumero,

Draconus palleo feindo aduivo.

Lamiae-dimidium fiendo aduivo

Agri fiendo aduivo.

Liber de noctis

Liber de diei

Liber de peior

Liber de lamiae

Proditor.

Latin, most likely, though none of them had a clue of what it meant. No one knew where it came from, and it was anyone's guess as to whose voice that was. Luscinia looked over at the other two and nodded, slightly, then left the tower, heading for Dumbledore's office. Draco followed shortly, then Harry, wearing a mask of dispassion. No doubt some other thing to make him special.

He met up with the two at the end of the staircase; Draco and Luscinia looked amused, but not afraid. Harry was expressionless.

"So what do _you_ think that was?" Luscinia asked Harry, already having had this conversation with Draco just moments ago.

"Me? I don't know, most likely some attempt to kill me again." Harry's voice was cold and sarcastic, rivalling even Draco. Luscinia took the hint and kindly shut her mouth. Draco, however, wasn't going to back down.

"Potter, you are a helpless, conceited git!" He stopped Harry in mid stride, looking at the black haired boy with sudden hate.

Harry simply shrugged and walked past, "You really have to stop talking to yourself, Malfoy, it's really quite unbecoming." With that, Harry strode to Dumbledore's office, not even pausing to look back.

Draco was in such a state that Luscinia had to smack him to get him out of it. He was raving and his eyes were a blaze, Luscinia rather enjoyed that sound her hand made as it collided with the pale boy's face, leaving a burning red mark.

"Draco, just leave it be! You'll give yourself a head ache, and if you didn't sooner or later I would have knocked you out, problem solved!" Her voice was commanding and she looked up into his eyes, calming him down.

"Whatever." The pale boy brushed past her, going to his dorm in the Slytherin dungeons. Luscinia stood in the center of the hallway, looking, for all the world, like a lost little girl. 

"I never asked to care, Draco," she whispered, tears falling from her face as she ran to her room beside the south tower.

***

Harry had told Professor Dumbledore about the song, how it had played upon his ears and how it had made him feel lost. Dumbledore just smiled and nodded then told the boy to go get some sleep. Harry had complied, and was now at rest in his bed in Griffindor tower.

Dumbledore, however, was not asleep and was chuckling to himself as he played a song over and over in his office:

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Diei quod eoacc postremo,

Malus fiendo insugi.

Aprepabl fiendo tendo evinco,

Orca ualeo semel. 

Illa fiendo ualeo saepenumero,

Draconus palleo feindo aduivo.

Lamiae-dimidium fiendo aduivo

Agri fiendo aduivo.

Liber de noctis

Liber de diei

Liber de peior

Liber de lamiae

Proditor.

***

Away from Hogwarts, and on a little island, a man (if you could call him that) sat upon a silver and gold throne. Half-naked women waited on him; all looking slightly repulsed by his snake like face.

"Wormtail, bring in the recruits, and leave after you are done." The man spat in a commanding voice. His hood was raised and his face hidden.

The rat of a man scuttled out of the room and brought in two cloaked figures, one taller then the other, both faces hidden. The man stood and circled them, scrutiny in his ruby eyes. His face almost human. "Why have you chosen to become my children?"

The first one said, "To step out of the shadows by living in darkness." The man smirked, how poetic.

The second one intoned, "For power, ambition, and the cause of ridding this world of the Muggles." The man cackled and grinned with mad glee. Placing the recruits under veritaserum was the best idea that he had ever had. Weed out the spys, that was his plan.

"Are you someone else under Polyjuice potion?" he demanded. They both said 'no.' The Man couldn't surpress the mad cackle that rose in his throat. "Do you pledge yourselves to the cause fully and completely?"

"Yes," they both said in unison. He grinned and uttered the incantation that would give the two men the mark. 

If the men felt pain, they did not voice it. They simply looked at each other and left the room, either to apparate elsewhere, or to do their first mission. The snake-faced man had the afterglow of a job well done as he sunk back down into his throne. 

A woman, dressed all in green, apparated into the room, smiling slightly. "It hassss been done…" she hissed, a forked tongue sliding from between her lips. Her eyes were bright yellow and her skin was pale green. She had a tale and slits, like cats, for pupils. She was a demon.

"Good." the man hissed as the woman grinned and popped out of site.

The man sat, quietly thinking of things to come, he thought of the Potter boy and the…no he couldn't bare to turn his mind to that now. His first mission as the dark lord had been carried out, and many more were soon to be finished. He allowed himself an ugly smirk, and called his pet snake to him. Nagini hissed as she slithered into her master's lap, a sound only audible by the man.

He hissed back at her, and if you spoke the language of snakes you would know what he said. It was his plot, his idea, and the conspiracy. This man was not to be trusted, this man was the boy who was once stunningly handsome, this man, was Voldemort. 

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A/N: Well…hello there. I would be the author, Shireen Mclean, I'm not exactly new to the fanfiction universe, but this is my first real uploading venture. I'd like to thank Atawalpa, Vmorticia (aka: She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) and perionan, my awesome betas (who never betaed this chapter). Roses Black is a WIP, but I will finish it, well, if you could call three sequels a finished product. Though there will always be something left unsaid. Erm…my three sequels will be called 'Roses Bound,' 'Roses Withered,' and 'Rose Red: The Children's years.' All in all I hope the 'Rose series', as my friend has affectionately dubbed it, will be appreciated. So, if you feel the need, R+R, I'm not stopping you!

Next time: A new character comes into the picture, Draco thinks, Harry skulks, Dumbledore becomes sad, and Luscinia…heehee…does something lady-like!

-Shireen Mclean aka Twilight Vampiress 


	2. Of Thoughts and Troubles

And Now, for the first time ever! Harry and Voldemort presenting: The Disclaimer.

Harry, who is preparing for the first scene in the story, is prowling the corridors of Hogwarts, he looks up as if realising something, "Oh, oh…right. Shireen does not own any of this stuff, except for Luscinia and I think Blaise's personality…oh and she owns Nox, and-"

Voldemort appears out of nowhere in a puff of green smoke, "Can-it, Potter, your taking all my lines. Ahem, Shireen also owns the elders and the concept of her vampires. Shireen, is that it?"

The author shakes her head and mouths something to the two characters.

"Opps!" they say at the same time, stopping a shooting glares at one-another, "J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros, Scholastic and Bloomsbury publishing own everything else." They finish, still glaring.

"Voldemort, shouldn't you be plotting?" Harry asks after a second or two.

"Oh right, right." He says, disappearing.

Shireen smirks, "He always has to have the last word…Now, on with the fic!"

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Slave To Darkness

Foe of light

Friend of the stars

Enemy to the sun

Black on white

Silk on wool

Darkness on light

Night on day

The way you are

Change is coming

Fast its coming

Day and night

-Day and Night, Shireen Mclean

Chapter two: Of Thoughts and Troubles

Harry wandered about the corridors of Hogwarts, dressed all in black, keeping to the shadows so that no one could spot him. He blended in, his dark hair and clothing making his pale skin glow slightly, he seemed to be in a dark mood. Yet he was most of the time, unless it suited him otherwise. He allowed himself a ghost of a grin before vanishing completely. How could this be? Harry Potter does not simply vanish; no _human _can simply vanish. Ah…but there he is, walking past a window, that ghostly grin still engraved onto his pale face. 

He was reflecting upon the previous night, the way the song had swam around him, like a snitch, taunting, poking, flying, and laughing at him. He sighed slightly and raked a hand through his wild locks. It was shorter in the front, to his earlobes, but went down to the nape of his neck in the back in a shaggy wild mess of ebony coloured silk. His eyes glinted with a secret that was yet to be revealed, what it was, only he knew. 

The darkness of the preceding night had encompassed him totally and fully, he grinned in remembrance of the way the night had smelled and tasted as it wrapped around him like a cloak of the most expensive fabric. He had laughed himself silly at Malfoy's uncharacteristic outburst, there would be no more of those, Harry could tell. Also, he was determined to figure out _why _the pale boy and his little friend were there. So, he was headed off to Dumbledore's office and would try to chide it out of the old man. 

Harry sat down on a windowsill, pondering his life as it were. It was confusing, he could say that much. He'd gone through major personality and physical changes, but he didn't really know why. He didn't think that it was the tournament of the previous year, it just couldn't be. He had been fine at the commencement of the summer, something had happened though, and he was going to find out what it was. He had, inexplicably, secured a job, working for some Muggle defence teacher, it paid well, and Harry had bought new clothing which was a rather logical change. But he had sprouted up seven inches, and though his voice could sometimes be…squeaky…was it normal to grow as much as he did? Then he had started to look at things differently, critically, as if they all had things to hide. He supposed that he was just wary. Wouldn't you be? 

Gazing out into the vast blueness of the sky, he smiled and stood up, the pale blue colour made him slightly uneasy, (most things did) but it was a beautiful day. He kept the smile on his face as he said the password (blood lollipops) and sauntered up the staircase. He wanted those answers, and he was going to get them.

***

He grinned at his reflection in the shimmering silver mirror, "Hello, handsome!" it declared. Draco Malfoy laughed and ran a hand through his pale blonde hair. His stormy eyes were alight by the sun that shone through his window, and he was dressed in a grey that matched his eyes perfectly. He looked like a storm cloud, dark and foreboding. 

His smile faded as he turned away from the mirror and flopped down on his soft bed. With his hair splayed out around his head like a halo of frail silk, he looked like a fallen angel.

__

Damn that Potter, he thought with a vengance, _why does he have to be so irritating?_ He growled as he thought about the previous night, how could that boy win a battle of words with _him_, Draco Malfoy, the best vocal slanderer Hogwarts had ever seen?! The pale boy was quite upset with the whole thing, he had insulted Harry, though his words were better characterised with Ronald Weasley, and the boy had flung it right back in his face. Normally he would have said something spiteful or mean, but he just couldn't find the words. 

His face was slightly flushed and he took a calming breath, _then_ Luscinia had slapped him, hard, he still had a slight red mark on his cheek. He had forgotten about her wild temper, and it _was_ wild. The last time that she was mad at him he was stiff for days from a broken leg. She always had a bit of a sadistic mind set, of course, she wasn't perfect, her foibles were many and sadism just happened to be a major player.

He sat up and looked around the room, though nobody inhabited the beds, all the curtains were drawn and the singular dungeon window let a beam of light shine onto Draco's bed, illuminating the silver eyes that he hid behind a curtain of pale silk. He sighed and strode to the door, keeping to the shadows, much like Harry had done. Though Draco didn't know it, yet, Harry was kindred. 

He opened the door and walked down the dark stairwell, his face looked similar to Harry's, a ghost of a grin hidden by the shadows that fell across his face. Though, Draco didn't know how akin he was to the black haired boy.

As he reached the bottom he jumped back in surprise as he saw a boy about his age with black hair and red eyes.

"Good,' he paused, 'day, I'm looking for a certain Luscinia Blackwing, might you know where she is?" The boy's voice was polite, but the expression on his face was sinister. The air around him was sheltered from the sunlight, like a fingerprint of darkness. His looks told you that he held secrets, your secrets, and that he could fulfil the deepest, darkest desires of your heart. He stood proudly, looking down his nose at Draco, his skin as pale as death. This boy was dark, evil, and sinister, so why should Draco let him near Luscinia? Although, he had to admit, he had seen that face before during school.

"Who wants to know?" He asked lazily, eye's narrowed.

"No matter, I'll find her myself." The black haired boy spoke softly, ignoring Draco as he swaggered from the room, his midnight cloak trailing out behind him.

Draco glowered, but wasn't about to follow the red eyed boy. Besides, he thought as he touched his hand to his cheek, Luscinia could handle herself.

***

Luscinia was sitting in a large comfortable chair in her little room beside the south tower. Her blonde hair fell past her shoulders in a waterfall of silver and the lids of her eyes were half closed like that of a sleeping cat. The air around her crackled with static electricity, she was cloaked in its charged aura. It hung around her like a dense cloud. She glared at the vase in front of her and it broke, shattering into millions of irreplaceable pieces. She grinned; half-vampirism had its good side.

"Well done my kindred," an amused voice behind her said. She turned to face a Vampire with the red eyes, he was smiling, fangs visible, "I was thinking that you'd lost the your touch, hanging around with all of these humans." 

Luscinia smirked at the teenaged vampire she knew quite well, "Hello, Zabini, is there anything that I might be able to do for you? Or did the elders just send you to check up on me?" Her voice was sarcastic as she flopped back into the black chair. The majority of the room was coloured in blacks and greys. It suited her, and she stood out starkly against her dark backdrop.

Blaise Zabini, one of the newest Vampires, grinned a fanged grin, "Both." He stated, as if it explained everything, the fact was, it did. That was the thing about Blaise, he only told you what he wanted you to know. He was only made during the last year, and naturally would not receive his vampiric name until he changed someone. Luscinia already had hers, Luscinia wasn't her real name, it meant nightingale in Latin. Although she hadn't changed anyone, she couldn't to be honest; the elders had given her one for a reason she did not know. She shared a companionable relationship with him; he was just about the only vampire that didn't look down on her for being a _'semi-lamiae.'_

She only looked at him quizzically, ignoring the feeling of dread she felt rising in her gut. She knew it might come to this but, so soon? She had only been changed into a half-vampire three years ago. (Vampire's age until they are 20 or so.) She kept her calm exterior and waited for her visitor to drop his dark façade. 

He looked at her; she could feel him sizing her up, trying to see if she could take the news. All too suddenly, he was sitting to the left of her on another chair, his eyes were black and he didn't look as sinister. His pale face was tilted to one side, regarding her, his dark hair was swept across his forehead and across his eyes. He looked innocent, like the shadows that fall on the ground during the day. The illusion was shocking.

He smiled at her ever so slightly, his fangs hidden and his expression slightly rueful. "You know what I mean," he volunteered, prodding her subconscious with his, "I know you do." She looked him in the eye; the fathomless depths of black on black made her almost lose her train of thought. She had forgotten that she could only look some of the lamia in the eye. The feeling in the pit of her stomach was rising to the surface, utter and total dread. She couldn't be…it was impossible…she needed to ask Dumbledore…her head was swimming, she fainted.

***

He looked down at her prone form, _Figures_, he thought, _that she just had to go all lady_ _like_ now_!_ He could just do what he had been sent to do now, but that would be betraying the girl's trust. He liked her too much to do that. Blaise lifted her from the floor without effort and placed her on her bed. His eyes had faded to their normal human colour, black, and he didn't look so evil. That was the problem about being a teenage vampire, no one would come near you for fear of being bitten, and teenagers need companionship. That was why he liked Luscinia, she didn't shy away from him when he was around her.

He looked down at her with a light in his eyes, she was dressed in a midnight blue colour, her hair was splayed about the pillow wildly and she looked to be at peace. Although the reference was already used, she looked like she had fallen from the peeks of the mountains of heaven. Blaise appreciated this aspect of her. After watching her for a few more minutes, he sauntered back to the chair and sat down. Luscinia was the greatest puzzle that he had ever known. And he _wanted _to get through the confusion and the awful temper. He wanted someone to talk to, to hug, and to solve.

He sighed and went over his 'orders' (ones which he had no wish or plan to carry out) in his head, the elders used to be such old ninnies, though they once were the most powerful vampires in the entire world, they never had any concept of the teenage mind. What he was going to do was not his mission, though the elder did send him to come to Hogwarts, he had decided to take upon himself the…problem with Luscinia.

~

__

Blaise Zabini looked around the large palace of the elders; it was dark and shadowed, very old and terrible looking. He may enjoy the presence of the darkness and the shrouding of the light, but this place gave him the shivers. He walked through the open doors that lead to the 'elder room.' This room was slightly lighter and all of the six places were illuminated. One of them, a demon vampire with bright orange hair and greenish skin spoke, 

"Young one, you are to be sent on your first mission tomorrow, do you know what it is?" Her voice was hissing, and a forked tongue slithered out of her fanged mouth. She was the head vampire, and easily one of the most depraved. Though she was mostly demon, she fed off blood and all of the other Vampires were scared of her. Her name was Nox.

Blaise felt a pang of suspicion rip through him, he was barely three months old (as far as lamia go), and he shouldn't be doing anything except training for the next year. He narrowed his eyes and looked at the other council members who were sitting stock and still, they usually whispered amongst themselves. This was starting to feel horribly wrong, he could feel his fangs begin to grow and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end. The leader was looking at him with a mad glint in her eyes.

"No, would you mind horribly if I asked you what it was?" He put on a sickeningly sweet voice and regarded the demon innocently, hiding his true suspicion as he took two very small steps back.

"You are to go to Hogwarts and be my ears and eyes…an operative. You go to the school anyway, it should be no problem." Her snub nose twitched ever so slightly as she said this. She wanted him to spy _most likely on some new recruit at his school, but then, a thought flew across his mind. Maybe Nox was working for someone, a certain someone with red eyes and pale skin. A certain someone named Voldemort._

He looked up at her with surprise, "You want me to spy for you!?" She nodded, a smile playing upon her lips. Blaise calmed himself and acted as if he was all right with the idea. He nodded and left the room. But just as he turned to leave, he looked back at the elders, all but one of them was dead.

"Bloody hell…" he whispered before running from the room and making his way to Hogwarts.

~

He ran a hand over his face and sighed deeply, it was too much work for him to have to spy on his classmates. Namely a boy with black hair, green eyes and a scar. Dear god, he thought ironically, if they had told me that I was to be a Vampire when I came to Hogwarts I would have laughed at them and walked right past, but here I am, preparing to do the hardest thing that I have ever done. He _had _lied to Luscinia about the 'elders' saying she would be, well he had lied in any event. Mostly, he had decided that this was what she needed to get a certain someone out of her head for good. He had already talked to Dumbledore about his staying at the castle. The old man understood perfectly well what had happened, it almost seemed like the bearded wizard had known that the vampiric order had been thrown off. Luscinia was starting to wake up, what if she got mad at him and did something…painful? Now that was a scary thought.

***

An old man with half moon frames set upon his nose read over a paper that sat precariously on a stand. The air around him hummed with controlled power and ancient wisdom. Moreover, the sun that shone through the windows made a halo of brightness around his head. He looked to be the most powerful thing alive, like an angel of ancient times. He chuckled slightly at the words in Latin that were false, and the ones in English that were quite true. Dumbledore was a funny old man, barking mad indeed. He was broken out of his reverie by the sound of a sharp tapping on his door. For a man of his age he moved unordinary fast, bustling about his office and making it to his large, red chair. "Come in," he suggested, a slight commanding tone in his voice. He wasn't surprised to see Harry Potter standing before him looking like a dark spot in the day light that fell into the room, "Ah Mr. Potter, I was not expecting you, please take a seat." The wizened old man gestured to a chair opposite himself.

Harry sat down in the chair and looked into Dumbledore's eyes evenly, "Professor, I would like some answers." 

***

His voice was even and held no sign of nervousness. Normally Harry would not speak out to his teachers (Snape excluded) but he felt that his curiosity could not be…'snuffed out' as it were. Hermione could do research for him if it was during the school year, but the likely prefect was hundreds of miles away on holiday in Bulgaria. Besides, Harry didn't think she would be able to find out the reason why Malfoy and his little friend were here in _Hogwarts: A History_. This just seemed like the best solution. The bespectacled young man looked up at his headmaster, the old man seemed to be glowing, but then, things are not always what they seem.

"Answers I have, it depends on the question." Dumbledore said, smiling in a cryptic way. Harry fidgeted under his twinkling blue gaze.

"Well…you see- that is to say…argh…I'd like to know why Draco Malfoy and Luscinia are here, I'm curious." He blurted out with a stutter reminiscent of Professor Quirrel. _Well,_ Harry thought sarcastically, _that was eloquent._

Dumbledore looked slightly surprised, Harry had never seen_ Albus Dumbledore _look surprised, ever. Angry, yes, jovial, indeed, wise, always, but never ever surprised.

The old wizard sighed and looked at Harry with sadness far beyond anything that the fifteen-year-old had ever seen in those blue eyes. Though it had been so twice before.

"Some things, Harry, you will know when you are ready, now is not the time." The Headmaster looked deflated and kept a steady gaze with Harry. 

The black haired teenager nodded instead of arguing and left the office silently, keeping to the shadows once more. He felt deflated for not standing his ground. A mask of dispassion was once again upon his fair face. What ever had made Draco Malfoy end up at Hogwarts was traumatising and should never be relived. Harry could guess that much. But before he could elaborate on his thought process he ran into the last person that he wanted to see.

***

Nox looked around the empty elder room and waved her hand ever so slightly. An image appeared in front of her, flickering slightly. It was a boy who was laughing with two other boys, "Your time will come," she whispered to no one, "your time will come."

__

To be continued…

Well, until next time…'keep fit and have fun!' (S'ry Canadian thing)

-Shireen

Authors notes, Thanks to all of my reviewers, you honestly don't know how much it means to me! I'm very excited about this fic, very excited.

Next time: Luscinia gets a shock, Harry shares with Draco in some Witty-reparté, and a surprise ending! There is some Latin too, as always.


	3. I'll never tell

**__**

Diclaimer

Voldemort and Draco step out from their separate rooms, grinning like idiots with mad gleams in their eyes. They advance towards Shireen and bring out their wands. 

"Uh guys…what are you doing?" Shireen asks backing away.

"Revenge." Says Draco.

"For making us into your puppets." Voldemort finishes.

Shireen makes a meeping sound and runs away. 

"She doesn't own this, J.K Rowling does, but it was fun to see her run like that." Intones Voldemort, placing his wand back into his robes and disappearing. Draco shrugs and runs off to his common rooms. 

Shireen slinks back, "Oh you just wait until the first interlude, you just wait." Dark!Harry steps out from the shadows and smirks.

"I thought I was your muse, not them." Shireen gives him a look and stomps away, muttering about inconsiderate muses and something being all Vmorticia's fault.

Dark!Harry shrugs, "On with the fic." 

Unravel their will my pet   
And set these mortals free  
-Sonic Dementia, Immortalis

__

I'll never tell.

Shhh…Don't tell; it's a secret.

I know a secret,

Dark it is,

Sinister and evil.

I'll never tell.

It could chill your being,

It could freeze your soul.

It's made of all things leftward,

And it doesn't like the sun.

I'll never tell.

Indeed it is lonely, 

I bet you want to know my secret,

But I can't tell you, definitely not.

No, I never tell.

-Shireen Mclean 

Chapter 3: I'll never tell 

Luscinia woke to a complete silence. Glancing about her dark room, she found that Blaise had disappeared. 

__

Good, she thought happily, _no post-haste decisions are to be made._ She grinned absently as she sat up, tugging downwards on her midnight coloured sleeves that had bunched around her elbows, she hated that. She winced slightly as a shooting pain shot from the top of her head, down to her feet and back again, "He didn't…" she whispered, why would he betray her trust so? Unless…well he was a vampire, and their ability to keep a promise was as weak as a wineglass that was wrapped in thorns. Technically, he hadn't 'promised' anything. 

She rubbed the palm of her hand against her neck; indeed, the indentations were there, fresh, painful, and raw. She let her tongue roam the inside of her mouth, yes, that was the flavour she remembered. 

"I'm going to kill that distrustful, little wanker as soon as I get my hands on him!" Her voice, even in anger, was pleasantly smooth. She growled and punched one of her pillows; it burst into an eruption of feathery madness. She just couldn't believe it, how could he have done something so…depraved? She wanted to scream and cry, laugh maniacally and hit things, but the logical part of her brain told her to think it over.

__

So much for living a normal human _existence._ She threw up her hands in anger and stalked to her bathroom, just to make sure she wasn't over reacting (No! Really?). It could be anything, she could have been in an awkward position as she slept, and as for the indentations and the taste of sweet, sweet…_No I won't believe it! _

As she made her way across the short expanse between bath and bed, she noted that her movements were smooth and elegant, with out even trying. She was almost absolutely sure that he had performed the _transitus, _and she was not what most would call 'happy.' Besides being incomprehensibly angry, she was pleased. A conflicting emotion to the one coursing through the human part of her mind. She liked her new body, and the catlike grace that came with it. Even more annoying was the fact that if there was an altered side of her it _wanted_ to feel this change, this _transition. _

She opened the door to her bath soundlessly, letting her lightly shoed feet glide across the bathroom's white marble floors. The brightness was hurting her eyes, and she felt sick as she saw the image in the ornately carved silver mirror on the opposite wall. Roses wound around the frame, thorns as sharp looking as knives, petals as soft as down. But Luscinia wasn't looking at the frame, she was looking at her reflection. She gave a wild shriek of rage and spun on her heal, out of her quarters. She was hungry, and very, very angry.

When Luscinia looked into the mirror she saw, a pale flower, a deadly rose, a girl with blood red eyes.

***

Draco raked a hand through his hair, sighing in defeat. Whoever that boy was, he was no good. Draco had spent the last two hours fretting over why the red eyed youth had wanted to see Luscinia. Draco paused, his feet were tired of the constant back and forth of his pacing, and his brain was drawing a blank. 

The green light in the common room was tumbling over his body, and any one who saw him would think him a painting. Possibly entitled, _Frustration with a hint of shrewd indifference._ Shadows cascaded over one half of his form; the other half was illuminated with the sickly green colour that reminded him so of the killing curse. 

Looking up at one of the dungeon walls, he saw a bloodied man walking with a look of true pain and desolation on his face across a tapestry. He grinned slightly; he'd go for a walk, yes, that would cool him off.

He was about to leave the Common room when a sharp tapping on one of its windows made him look up sharply. His owl, Ehanay, was looking very impatient as he walked over to the solitary window and let her in. The eagle owl swooped into the common room and dropped a letter on his head. He glared at the golden feathered owl as he opened the letter, addressed to him in dark blue ink.

__

Draco,

I hope that my letter finds you in good health, and of sound mind. (You know: that old Malfoy madness!) I'm writing to you to tell you that something big is going down. I mean Voldemort big. I find myself at a bit of a crossroads, sorry to tell you I still haven't chosen sides, the Light that is Potter or the sinister Voldemort…I really don't know. I mean the guy practically adopted me, I've no inclination why, and your father has been overtly 'fatherly' towards me, what with the 'death' of my mother and father, he always was nicer to me then most, not that I approved of it. 

It must be interesting, being at Hogwarts for the summer, with Potter and Luscinia no less. Though Luscinia is a nice girl, granted, but Potter is, well… I wont elaborate. Myself, I always thought that he might make a good Slytherin, that is, if his mates weren't so…naïve. It's sickening really. 

You know, I found something out about our dear 'Lord' (I'm giggling here like you wouldn't expect) he's not who we think he is! Very interesting discovery, that. I'll tell you when school gets in…what fun! 

Oh, I'm ready for a new year of Gryffindor baiting, are you? Potter should be careful though, the majority of the Slytherins have it in for him. Although, I suppose I never accosted him out-right (probably never will), but I have my own reasons for that. 

Did you hear about Fudge? Well, probably not, HE'S DEAD! No one knows what happened, no one on the light side, openly, that is. I heard your father and Voldemort talking, apparently, it was done by a new operative…don't know who though. 

Oh Draco, I hope that Luscinia isn't too strange, what with her attraction to you and all. 

Speaking of Luscinia, the Vampires are getting active, I've no idea why, but it may be something…painful! 

Your mother won't stop fussing over me, it really is getting to be a bit much, saying how she 'never had a little girl!' Honestly, how do you handle her? 

So what is it like? Being at Hogwarts for the summer? I feel awful about what happened, your father doesn't know I'm writing this by the way, so you're safe.

I look forward to hearing from you soon. 

Love, 

Cassandra Moon 

Keeping up the nightly fun.

Draco pondered over his cousin's letter. Fudge was dead? _Well that's a new development. _He thought, scratching his head. His father and mother always liked Cassandra more then most, so that was nothing big. He knew that Luscinia was 'attracted' to him, so no news there. What was this about having her own reasons for not teasing Potter? Curious. 

She was something of an inside informer to both sides. Cassandra was in his year, also in Slytherin, and, like himself (or like he'd recently become), neither a 'Hero worshipping people-pleaser' or a 'Dark-lord hem kissing evil-doer.' Though she was in the middle because of her own reasons, and not just her pride (like himself. He wouldn't bow down to anyone). She was the daughter of the late Nara Malfoy and Regis Moon, though they weren't dead, per-say. He reached for a piece of parchment and a quill, writing down his reply whilst thinking of her letter. 

She just had to bring up the incident, honestly, the one thing in life that gave him that _much_ pain and she had to bring it up. Albeit, she brought it up out of concern, but still. 

And did she say that Voldemort 'practically adopted' her? Curiouser. 

Even more curious was the comment about the Dark Lord not being whom they thought he was. He finished his letter with a flourish, blowing on it lightly to dry the ink.

__

Cassandra,

I am in good health, and of sound mind, so you don't have to worry.

Your letter was most puzzling…do explain. What are your reasons for not accosting Potter out-right? Hmm…does someone have a crush? Cassie, I never would have guessed that you were the type to fall for The Boy Who Refused to Die! 

Who cares about the bumbling idiot, Fudge? Really, he's is better off dead. Killed by a new operative? Really, I wonder who it could be? I'm betting one of the Weasleys did it, the snooty one. Just kidding, those redheaded paupers couldn't pull off murder if it was their own.

So Mr. Riddle has 'practically adopted' you, has he? Curious. I never suspected one so, 'je ne sais quoi,' to be the 'fatherly' type. And I expect to hear all about him not being whom we think he is when you get to Hogwarts.

Being at Hogwarts for the summer is…interesting. Suffice to say, Potter has changed. He's very different from the innocent he once was: Darker, more, Slytherin-esq. It makes me think that he would make a good ally, if he were in another house, that is. His self-righteous Gryffindor buddies can be so insufferable, and you know how they protect him, it's really quite humorous though sickening in an "I worship the ground you walk on" sort of way. But he is secluded, and definitely not_ a Gryffindor anymore. What fun…a challenge, you know how much I enjoy challenges._

Speaking of 'challenges,' I must go find Luscinia, and talk to her about something or someone… 

Looking forward to hearing from you,

Draco Malfoy

Keeping the bad faith.

Draco placed the letter in an envelope and sealed it closed, addressing it in dark green ink. His owl hooted at him as he tied the letter to her talons. 

"Take this to Cassie, will you?" He said, looking at the owl for the first time since she came through the window. Ehanay nipped his finger in response and flew through the open window.

Draco sighed, now he had to find Luscinia. "Easier said then done…" he murmured as he left the Common room, this time, with out interruptions.

***

Harry, not watching where he was going, found himself thrown to the cold stone floor. He landed with a light _thump _and rolled his eyes slightly. A low growl caused him to look up and see a very irate Luscinia glaring back at him. His insides froze, her eyes…

The girl, at least that's what he thought she was, was sitting opposite himself, her hair falling past her shoulders in a tumbling of soft silver waves and her…wait, _since when was her hair wavy_? He pushed that thought aside, taking in the rest of her appearance: The shadows in the brightening hallway wrapped themselves around her, making a cloak of dark nothingness that could have blocked out the sun (if it weren't early morning). The tendrils of inky darkness snaked their way across her slim face, letting her furious eyes shine through. Her eyes unnerved him, though he didn't let it show, glowing red, the mark of evil.

"Potter." She supplied smoothly, breaking the silence.

Harry, being overtly uncharacteristic (of the way he used to be), rose to his feet in one fluid motion, wiping invisible dirt off the black shirt that covered his lithe frame, and held out an elegant, pale hand.

"Luscinia," he replied silkily, putting aside his discomfort. Helping her up wasn't beyond him; it was simply on impulse.

She smirked and grasped his hand, easing herself up gracefully. Harry kept his face cool as he took his hand back, wincing internally when he realised that hers was icy cold; it froze his blood.

"One might ask," she began, easing herself closer to Harry, grinning; he inwardly flinched, "why a certain Harry Potter was storming from a certain Headmasters office, sulking and quite obviously upset." She smiled suggestively and took another step towards him. 

Harry, who almost pulled a face at her overly long and sharp canine teeth, had forgotten about his little meeting with Dumbledore (what with all the _pleasantries_). Instead, he chose to take a step back. 

"And one might reply that it was none of your business to begin with, and-" he reached over and clamped her mouth shut -"that a certain _someone_ should keep her nose where it belongs, and keep her fangs away from a certain Harry Potter's neck. For he does not wish to become a meal. That is, if she does not wish to have them removed, _painfully_." He replied with the air of someone commenting on the weather. He kept his expression cool, hoping that she wasn't too hungry.

Rage flickered in her eyes for a second or two before she tensed visibly, and whirled around, her mouth, Harry saw, was in a frown.

"Draco…I, that is to say…a little help here, Potter?" she growled, turning her eyes back to Harry.

The black haired boy smirked and held up his hand in a gesture clearly stating, _'You're on your own.'_

Luscinia, surprised at said gesture, growled at him and said, "And I thought you were one of the good guys," before glaring and turning back to Draco. The blonde was looking from Harry to Luscinia, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Harry almost laughed out loud.

"Luscinia, thought you'd like to know, but there was a bloke looking for you, rather familiar looking if you ask me. Well, except for the red eyes-" the Slytherin finally seemed to notice that Luscinia wasn't the same as when he'd last seen her. Harry rubbed his hands together in anticipation of Draco's next words: "_just like yours_…"

The blonde boy narrowed his eyes, and seemed to be taking in all of Luscinia's appearance. Harry was waiting, with morbid curiosity, for the, how do you say, shit to hit the fan. Finally, Draco's eyes fell to Luscinia's mouth, which was still in the frown, but a slight protruding in the lips caused it all to click. Harry could almost see the light bulb to go on above Draco's head.

"My god, you've been turned into a full _Lamiae!_?" He spoke tersely, his hands flying to his neck, staring at the new vampire in shock. Harry guessed the meaning of the word 'Lamiae.'

"That boy, his name is -_was- _Blaise Zabini-"

"Zabini! The little f-"

"Yes, Draco, I know." She interrupted with the air of someone talking to a very small child who didn't know anything, "No doubt there is a long list of, ah, _strong words_ to describe him; and eventually, he will rue the day you were given the excuse to use them. He changed me against my will and for that I am very angry, but I am also very hungry, so if you don't mind, good bye!" And with that, The Girl Who Was Bitten had disappeared.

Harry, who was leaning against the wall, kept his eyes trained on the Slytherin. Draco was looking aloof, yet betrayed. A thought struck Harry, if Malfoy was vulnerable…

"Malfoy?"

"What, Potter" Harry sighed inwardly, this would take some work. Draco was back to being snide and corrupt, yet he looked anything but. Rays of light fell across his pale features, which gave him a look of feigned innocence. Harry would later tell Draco about this, and the blonde would laugh, saying it was one of the tricks of the trade. Rule #6: Always make them think you're innocent, it makes hurting them later a synch.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked calmly, levelling his gaze to the floor, also following the trade. (Rule #10: If they think you are humble, they will crumble).

"I could ask you the same question, Potter, but I think we all know the answer." He sneered.

Harry snorted, "And that's what?" he asked calmly, then put on a sad voice, " 'Oh, I'm so sad! My family kicked me out! Oh boo, hoo, hoo!' Let's get realistic here, I have no _real _relatives. Malfoy, you should know that.

"But I believe that _I _asked why _you_ were here, _not_ the other way around." Harry let himself smirk.

"I'll never tell!" Draco said mysteriously.

Harry rolled his eyes at him and in remembrance of a Muggle book that he'd seen Hermione reading, "Malfoy, you are so difficult."

"Am I?"

"Yes,"

"Perfect, I try you know." Draco retorted gleefully.

Harry sighed a long-suffering sigh, "Indeed."

It was Draco's turn to snort, "Way to state the obvious, Potter."

"Are you planning to shut-up any time soon?" Harry said, thoroughly vexed with the Slytherin. 

Harry saw Draco glance at his watch, "Not in the near future, come back in a few years and try your luck then. You never know, I might have become sick of myself."

Harry grumbled, "I hardly doubt that. You're so vain that even after fifty years stuck in a hole by yourself you'd still have something to talk about."

"Touché."

***

Draco would later relate to Harry that this conversation was the beginning of everything. 

He didn't think that he'd talk about his summer for quite a while, and he doubted that he would tell Harry even when he did start to relive the painful memories.

Through his conversation, if you could call it that, with Harry, Draco had brought his mind back to the subjects of Luscinia, his cousin's letter, and Dumbledore. What would he tell the old man? Voldemort had big plans, so what? The snake-faced, self-appointed potentate of all things evil always had supposed "big plans." But Cassandra Moon was always honest to him, unless she had been equivocal with him since they were children. No, she may be a Slytherin, but she wasn't a deceitful one. 

Draco waited for Harry's response, the black haired boy simply smirked and folded his arms over his chest, Draco considered that he must be content for the time being. 

But then he said, "So, Luscinia is a vampire, well that can't be good," Harry levelled his dark green gaze to Draco, "you've lost your play-mate."

__

Ouch, thought Draco, _that was a truly Slytherin jibe. _And it was, complete with underlying meaning and all. 

Instead of shooting back a sarcastic remark, Draco decided that now was as good a time as any to figure out whether the change in Potter was genuine or not, "So, what made you decide to be different?" Draco inquired casually, leaning against the wall opposite to Harry, mirroring his position.

Harry narrowed his eyes and Draco guessed what he was thinking, _Rule #1, Never trust a Slytherin, even if he seems to have had a change in heart_, "Things," he offered vaguely, Draco reasoned that he was deciding whether or not to say more. He didn't.

Draco knew that he'd have to take Harry's unspecific reply at face value, or guess that the boy simply didn't know himself. He tried to search Harry's face for clues, but found none.

"Indeed?" Draco questioned.

"Indeed." Harry affirmed.

Draco briefly wondered what had started this obscure game of cat and mouse, but decided against examining the possibilities. He was about to reply, when Professor Dumbledore interrupted their little chat. He seemed to appear out of thin air, and the bad mood that Draco didn't know about had fizzled out. He smiled gravely.

***

He didn't know _exactly_ what had made up his mind to tell the boys their link, but the newly made vampire that had stormed into his office and read his mind _might_ have had something to do with it.

"Boys," he began, hiding a smile at Harry and Draco's flinch, "I believe that you need to come to my office. Some things need to be, ah, shall we say, _explained_." 

Dumbledore didn't register the looks of puzzlement before leading the two down the hall, back to his office.

Once they were inside, they sat down, one in a large red leather chair behind the desk, and the other two in smaller plush red chairs in front of the red-wood surface. 

"Well you see, you two share a link, a, bond if you will." Dumbledore began, smiling slightly at the looks that quite plainly said, _A bond?_ _With_ him_!? Impossible!_

"I assure you it's quite possible and if you would allow me to explain…"

~

About three hours later Harry and Draco were walking out of the Headmasters office with looks of shock on their faces and shaking in their bones. The headmaster had made them talk about their summers, and neither held those memories fondly. Then, the old man had told them all about their link, or bond, or Catenatus de Rosa Furvus as it was named in the books that Dumbledore had shown them.

"Er, Malfoy?" Harry finally said, glancing at the blonde with confusion.

"What, Potter?" Draco snapped.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" He inquired, bringing his gaze to the Slytherin, though which one could be called that truthfully was now a point of great dispute. 

Draco nodded numbly, and Harry shuddered. The Gryffindor ran down the hall, towards the entrance hall, Draco just looked after him with wild confusion; then turned on his heal to go back into Dumbledore's office. The letter from Cassandra was weighing heavily in his pocket, "Now or never…" he hissed, entering the staircase once more.

***

He bowed low before the vampiric demon sitting before him on a throne of ornate gold, watching her pointed tale as it swished lazily, not wanting to get hit.

"Back again?" She commented mildly, her yellow eyes in slits and her pupils narrow.

"You could say that." Blaise volunteered, smirking. "I changed the half-breed." He hissed, delighted with himself.

She looked at him skeptically, one brow raised, "Is that so, where is your proof?" 

Blaise didn't even flinch as he held out a crystal vial with a red liquid in it, Luscinia's blood.

Nox grinned a wolfish grin and snatched the blood away saying, "I knew you could, Flagro."

Flagro smirked at his new name, Flagro Zabini; he didn't ask what it meant. He already knew.

***

Luscinia glared at the rabbit in front of her, daring it to move; it didn't. 

"Here bunny, bunny, bunny." She called hypnotically. When it was in range, she pounced, draining it of its life. 

"Silly bunny," she murmured while licking the blood from her lips, "Tricks are for kids." And then she was gone.

***

A figure in a black cloak waltzed down the streets of Hogsmeade as if he owned them, the people stopped and stared as he came to rest in the middle of the crowded street. The summer breeze ruffled his clothing, and the sun beat down on him furiously. If he was hot, he didn't show it.

A five year old named Lillian walked up to him shyly and said, "Mister, what's your name?"

He smirked, thinking this was too easy. "I hardly doubt it matters."

"Why?" She looked up at him with large brown eyes.

"You see, I'm about to kill you, so good-bye…"

__

A/N: Ahhhh…I feel so evil! I know that death is part of the Harry Potter books, but a little girl? Saddening. 

Yup that (the change) was what Luscinia was fainting about. She was turned and she had just made her first kill; though it was a bunny, *sniffle *. Hah…I didn't reveal any of my secrets about Harry and Draco yet, and I won't until a good deal longer. Blaise, or Flagro, is sadly, truly, evil, and I feel awful about it. Nox is the worst here, don't you think?

Uhm…. Dear me, I suppose that I should include a disclaimer here for all those on ff.net: 

The Latin, I will use it through-out my story, so as to confuse you, I know what everything means, I'm not just going to make up spells on a whim, you know. Flagro means: blazing, flame, glittery, fiery, that type of thing. Luscinia means nightingale. That little phrase, Catenatus de Rosa Furvus means Link of Rose Black, translated exactly.

The phrases after the signed names on the letters of Cassandra and Malfoy are the generational, familial mottos. In other words, the mottos of their families for their generation. Keeping the bad faith, for Malfoy because it means Bad faith in French and Keeping up the nightly fun because…. I have my reasons. 

Next time: Attack on Hogsmeade, we find out the fate of the little girl, Harry and Draco work together!? And lots, lots more.

QUESTIONS: I need to take a vote, WHAT SHOULD MY PAIRINGS BE? I think I have an idea, but I need reader input, because I have no Idea whether to make it Slash or keep it het., so I need some help there. And if you have any questions feel free to ask! 

****

Yours truly,

Shireen Mclean


	4. Thank yous for the reviews

Thank yous for much needed reviews, something that I am going to start doing every chapter.

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Tanya: My first reviewer on ff.net, wow, thank-you for your wonderful review, it perked me up to no end and Dark!Harry, my muse, liked it as well. [Dark!Harry: *cheeky grin*]

Lady Python: Thank you, I was going for originality simply because I see too many fic way to alike, I wanted a change of pace. A similar disclaimer will be there every chapter…I'm going to run out of originality soon!

Ran: Thank-you, I worked for ages on the concept. Voila, next chapter, on a silver platter! 

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Bug: My Harry was in my head for the longest time, he is now known as Dark!Harry among the fandom and he refuses to called anything else, he's my muse. [Dark!Harry: Yup, I corrupted her!] My Muse Dark! Harry, not the one in the fic, is actually one of my guy friends, in the fic its Harry Potter Harry, but, you'll see later.

Vying Quill: I loved your review! *huggles* Yes, the whole Voldie thingy was for comical relief, he doesn't get too serious in this story,just wait until you see him and Nox together! Too funny. Yeah, I've evened things out a bit in the next chapter, but I still need to work on toning my descriptiveness a bit. The repetition is a bit much in this chapter, my un betaed one..chapter one. I've changed a few things here and there, mostly at the end. And I changed the typo.

Luscinia could NEVER be Draco's sister, I dislike her too much. I dislike all of the characters I make…don't ask why.]

You'll see about the Vampire thing in later chapters, for now, I'm zipped up tight. His mood change is integral to the plot, another thing that will be answered as time goes on…and on…and on. Thank you for your review.

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To no one: I'm not saying anything.

Please Review, I like them, Flame me, blame me, whatever, but I like feed back! *grins*

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-Shireen Mclean, Making people insane one step at a time.


	5. The Blood Runs Thicker

**__**

REVISED FOURTH CHAPTER - CERTAIN PARTS ARE "different"

Disclaimer and Authors Maunder:

Harry sits down by the lake and looks up at the author doubtfully, "This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"Yes, I believe you and Draco will be trapped in utmost torture, that is, until the end." Shireen nods to the pale blond and smirks, holding his wand in her hand so as to prevent a repeat of the last Disclaimer.

"Alright, but you don't own us, that J.K Rowling person does, and those publishing companies oh, AND Warner Brothers." Draco points out, not happy about the wand situation.

"Too bad, Drackikins, my fic, my rules. Besides, I love both of you too much not to have SOME fun." Shireen says, a glint in her eyes. Draco makes a wheebling sound and scampers off, over to his tree. Harry just laughs.

" Drakikins? Nice. You well know that I am too used to you by now, nothing fazes me anymore." Harry points out in a light voice, sarcasm lacing the edges. 

Shireen laughs evilly, "Just you wait, Mr. Potter, just you wait until the 13th chapter."

"Meep."

Voldemort jumps out from behind a tree, brandishing rubber chicken and evil glare, "MUHAHAHAHAHAHA, now I will prevail, die, Mclean, DIE!"

Shireen looks at Voldemort like he has grown three heads, "Uh, Voldie, you have a rubber chicken in your hand." Harry nods and tries to hold down a laugh.

****

THANK YOUS TO REVIEWERS and OTHER IMPORTANT PEOPLE:

Lady Python: Very adamant, I see? Well, you'll just have to wait and see, I'm not saying anything. Thank you for your comment on my dark story, I try, you know.

WeasleyTwinsLover1112: Well, not a fan, but the commercials are just SO cliché, I had to use it to see if any Canadians would recognize my humor. Thanks for the review.

slush puppy: Thank you very much! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Ran: Next chapter, coming up! I love semi-evil Harry, though I refer to him as Dark!Harry. [Dark!Harry: Who me?] Yeah, him.

Gia: Thank you very much for your review, this is the next chapter, enjoy.

Akuma-sama: Thanks for the comment, I love your fic too…as I might have mentioned. So I'm thanking you even though the review wasn't in the review place-y thingy, enjoy this chapter.

VMorticia: I really do not know what I would do without your betaing…I'd probably freak out, and of course, I love your own fic…er…fics. Honestly, the dirty humor lives on…Oh D!H…lol…fun times.

perionan: Thanks for your great job with the grammar…not exactly my best forté…but I try.

Atawalpa: Wow…great imagery as always! *smiles*

And I used the "devils don't walk arm in arm…" quote from Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat.

BWAHAHAHA, alrighty then, before we even get to me excusing the long authors note, listen up! This chapter is rated R for extreme violence, pain, and other evil plot bunnies. No romance yet peoples…but much sarcasm. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! And, excuse the helluvan author's note…more like an author's maunder…oh dear.

The Blood Runs Thicker

Red, ruby, red.

Broken and fallen

I cry

Tears of pain well up

In my eyes.

Horror at my insecurities

Life is draining away fast,

I don't see how I can last.

The blood it runs with unstopped

Life.

Pain and joy are one.

Broken I lie on the floor,

Sad and lonely,

I watch the war.

Terror fills my troubled soul

The blood runs thicker...

Red and liquid it falls to the shore,

Washed away by the fresh water lake.

Tears are all that I have left.

Red - it stays, sinking down.

The blood runs thicker then water.

****

-Shireen Mclean

****

Chapter 4: The Blood runs thicker

Harry rolled his eyes heavenward to the blue of the sun-splashed sky as a fluffy white cloud or two drifted along lazily. The clouds resembled the gauzy folds of fabric that he had often seen in the hospital wing. He looked away. Too many bad memories. Too many horrid thoughts.

He was pondering the revelations of that morning, still, an hour after the nice little chat with Dumbledore and Draco. _Could _the _Catenatus de Rosa Furvus _really be that…_overwhelming_? It was so mind boggling to think that the 'link' was a palpable force, one not to be reckoned with. A link, so strong, so palpable, that you could literally touch it when it was it's strongest. A bond so improbable that it had taken hours to explain. A curse so evil that it could kill them both. A gift, like that of a resplendent spring morning - The kind of morning where everything dawned afresh and anew. Where the flowers shone with morning dew and the spikes of verdant grass sparkled under the light touch of the sun. 

What really took the biscuit was the whole aspect of friendship. It was such a foreign concept, this bond with Draco Malfoy of all people. After all, devils didn't walk arm-in-arm in hell saying, 'Ah you're my friend, how I love you,' did they? 

__

Not human was the phrase that seemed to stick out like prickling thorns on an otherwise innocent black rose. _Hmm_, Harry reflected, almost wantonly, _fitting thoughts_.

__

Linked forever also became quite prominent. Why couldn't it have been Ron, Hermione, or dare he think it, Neville Longbottom? It just _had _to be Malfoy because fate was a cruel mistress and Harry her toy, or, as he thought back to that morning, playmate. He sighed emphatically, deliberately melodramatic because no one was around to gasp at the sight of The Boy Who Lived showing anything but courage.

He supposed the only good thing about the whole gift, curse - whatever- was that it wouldn't manifest itself until Dumbledore chose the appropriate time. He should have known that the old man wouldn't let up on him.

Then, like the sharp, cold gusts of wind on an excruciatingly frigid winter night - The kind of night when the stars shine brighter because they know that their far away warmth teases the lowly mortals down on earth - a spasm of pain erupted between his shoulder blades. He dropped to his knees and pressed the smooth palms of his hands onto the lake's shore, the jagged rocks enjoying the way that they could pierce his skin without effort. He broke into a cold sweat, the drops of salty perspiration dripping to the ground, mingling with his red life. Wave upon wave of grueling pain burst forth from his back; he cried out in agony, a torture on par with the _Cruciatus _being thrust upon him. The blood on the ground pooled and ran into the lake, a steady stream of life. It weaved a swirling pattern of red and blue hues, intermingling and spreading, changing everything that it touched. Like a web of deceit and mistrust, the swirling maze spread, its red fingers reaching, touching, changing, contaminating.

All the while he knew that this was a new beginning, the _Catenatus de Rosa furvus_ had been set in motion.

The anguish finally stopped after what seemed like years (cliché! I hate clichés) and Harry, breathing like he had run a Muggle marathon, slumped to the ground, the red of his blood staining the unforgiving, grey earth. He was enfolded within an encasement of darkness; leather and power; smooth, black, and free. _Only Harry Potter would hurt whilst receiving his wings_, he thought bitterly, slumped on the ground, the dull ache in his back beginning to numb. His black shirt, torn and falling off, covered in his own blood. 

*

Not so far away, maybe a few moments earlier, under the cooling shade of a large oak, Draco Malfoy was having a similar experience. He bit his lip against the burning fire that he felt between his shoulders. It was like a volcano, erupting and burning with a fire that laughed at you and swallowed you whole. He felt his teeth pierce the soft skin of his lower lip, and the blood dripped onto the lush, green grass. Surely someone had twisted his bones, doing with them what they would? Surely fate had decided that she wanted to have a field day? The agony, the mind numbing agony. He screamed, a sound that could be heard to the ends of the earth. This pain was worse then anything he had ever gone through. He began to cough, wracking his body, and he retched.

The pain died, slowly, leaving a dull ache in its all changing wake. The lush, beautiful grass all around him had been yanked up -like a raging hippogriff had been stampeding through the lawns- all except that tuft where his blood had fallen, darkening the spikes of summertime sedge. He ignored the mess that he had made, and slumped back against the tree. The cause of all this pain wrapped around him, pitch black wings, leathery and powerful. Covered in dripping liquid, blood.

He wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed, but a scream, louder then his own, flooded his ears, and he ran in the general direction of the sound. His eyes were wide in surprise, for he found it easy to move with the wings; fluid, smooth: as if he had been missing them his entire life. The Slytherin in him asked him _why, exactly, are you running?_ Draco almost laughed why _was_ he running?

When he arrived at the lake, the subject of concern, well maybe not _Draco's _concern, was slumped on its shore. Blood pooled under his hands, pitch, black wings folded around him, a tear, one single, crimson tinted tear, forming in his eyes and falling to the earth. Harry truly looked like a fallen angel. His stare, from what Draco could see, was vacant and filled with pain, a pain that could fill a Dementor with remorse, a deep, searing pain that would never truly leave. Draco knew, in that moment, that it wasn't just because of the wings that Harry Potter looked as if his soul had been sucked out. His black shirt was wet with a substance that looked suspiciously like the ruby of blood. Draco realised that Harry had gone through the exact same thing, thick wings drenched with blood, the darkness consuming the ruby colour. The blonde wondered why he didn't have the same look of lost hope and detached pain.

Draco stood over the boy who was staring at his hands, tiny cuts flecking over the entire surface of the otherwise smooth palms. Too smooth. Harry didn't have lines on his palms. No fingerprints, just smooth, pale hands. Draco looked at his own hands, neither did he. _That's a new development_. Draco had always remembered having fingerprints.

"Who are we?" he heard Harry's voice, strong but distant. Draco briefly wondered if Harry had suffered head trauma. 

The Slytherin, fighting his urge to run away from Harry at that very moment said, impatiently, "Harry Potter, that's you, and I'm Draco Malfoy. The charming villain who terrorises you daily with sick jokes and witty _repartee_." Draco registered Harry's mirthless laugh, the boy's ebony wings flinging back and almost knocking him off of his feet. Harry looked like one of those paintings that you see on old 16th century cathedral ceilings. Not that Draco had ever _been_ in an old 16th century cathedral, let alone looked at its ceiling, he just assumed that Harry fit the description that he'd heard the Muggle-borns depict. Except Harry wasn't chubby, he didn't have horns and he wasn't naked. _Nope, definitely not naked. I would've noticed something like that_. Though, Harry's shirt was falling off because of the tears in the cloth that the wings had caused. _Close enough_, Draco reasoned. 

"Malfoy, I know our names, how could I forget _you_," Harry said this sarcastically, "I mean, _who _are we? _What is our identity_? Better yet, _what _are we?"

"Whoa, Potter, you're getting a little bit _too _philosophical for me, we're still us just… a different, not all human us!" Draco said cheerfully.

"Malfoy, you sound like a cheerleader."

Draco didn't know what a _cheerleader _was, but he assumed that it was some Muggle beast that preyed on little children, "It's the pain, Potter, always makes me a tad delirious. You know, mind numbing, skin tearing, walks in the park and all that." He commented dryly, his annoyance at Harry subsiding under the sight in front of him. Draco was almost at the point of laughing. Harry's shirt had all but fallen off, and the black haired boy made a face. Draco, who thought that Harry was going through more pain, asked, "Can't take your pain like a man, Potter?"

Harry glared at Draco (The-Boy-Who-Could-Give-No-Compliment), then the tattered remains of his shirt and fumed, "That was my favourite shirt!" Draco could only laugh. It sounded like something Draco himself would say. 

Their aftermath humour was cut short as the high pitched scream of a little child zinged through the air. They both looked at each other, the moment killed like at least one person in every play that William Shakespeare had ever written.

Seconds later you could find them running to the town of Hogsmeade, as fast as their aching bodies could carry them.

"We'll-_pant pant_- never-_gasp-_ make it in-_pant_-time." Harry quipped. But he was alone in his run; he turned back to see Draco, pausing, looking like he had just figured out the spell that would block the Killing Curse. 

"Malfoy, would you stop standing there and do something?" Draco looked over to Harry, thinking that the black haired boy still had shards of his old heroism, he smiled at the boy who wore no shirt and looked distinctly ruffled. Draco realised, with a _slight_ reluctance, that he had _also been running. _

Harry, who was looking at him with narrowed eyes, had long deposited his glasses somewhere. The red stains on his exposed, pale skin stood out vividly. Draco noticed that his own shirt had stayed in place, more or less. _Ha, beat that, Potter_, he thought smugly.

"Potter, we are idiots." Draco heard Harry mumble something along the lines of, 'speak for your self.' "What do you have on your back?" Draco asked hurriedly. Harry looked like he had been smashed in the face with a ton of bricks.

"Stupid!" Draco watched as the black haired Gryffindor tested out the raven wings extruding from his lean back.

"That about sums it up." But Harry hadn't heard him. He had taken flight, and Draco was astounded. The creature that flew in the sky was paramount, graceful and free. An angel that had risen from the bowls of the earth. Draco wondered, as he took flight, if that was what he would look like. 

*

He laughed cruelly as Lillian stared up at him with wide eyes, _She either doesn't care or it hasn't sunk in_. By now, the entire crowd had turned to look at them. The harsh whispers in the faceless crowd made his ears buzz and tingle. The little girl finally screamed. _Ah, sweet, melodious horror!_ He thought as he bent down and picked up the girl in his arms. She stopped screaming and began to tremble, shaking and shuddering in his black sheathed arms. The look of despair on her pale face was unforgettable, like she was going to her death, and an early one at that. He smirked, pearly, white fangs glittering under the noonday sun. He took the small neck in his hand, and gently bit into the tender, lightly tanned flesh.

The zest of blood washed over his long parched tongue and his insignia blazed red. All vampires had one, so that they could go out into the sun. The rich, coppery flavour slithered down his throat imparting upon him, on a garnet-encrusted platter, the erotic sensation of living. _Life in death, the irony of it all_. The girl was almost dead when he laid her on the cobbled street, gently brushing the wisps of brown hair from her face; the child had gone very pale under her tan. 

By now, people had started running and screaming as if hell was on their very heels. In some cases, where the vampires had revealed themselves, such a saying could be true. The mix of 30 vampires, 50 Deatheaters, and 6 Basilisks was enough to make Lucius Malfoy smile and laugh insanely. Then, _they _arrived. 

His _master, _Voldemort, and the Dark Lord's mistress, Nox, stood surveying the carnage, _hand in hand_!? What had the world come to? Evil Over Lords showing compassion! Simply monstrous. Voldemort was smiling cruelly and Nox was licking her lips of the blood that she had just partaken. 

"Master," Lucius intoned, as he bent down to the ground, glaring at the silver buckled boots. He then stood and took Nox's hand in his and kissed the joint where finger and palm meet. Her skin had changed to a glowing olive of the blood that she had stolen, and her tail was hidden under the folds of her robe. She looked almost human, save the yellow eyes and the orange hair. The carnage that swirled around them made her demonic beauty glaringly obvious. Her long, evergreen, satiny robe swayed in the breeze, and she looked frozen in time, cold and detached. "Nox." He finished.

"Lucius, for once you have done something slightly competent, though I don't see why you had to make a production out of it." Voldemort was praising and berating him at the same time like only Tom Riddle could do. Lucius almost rolled his eyes. Nox must have caught the movement, for she smirked indulgently and dropped Voldemort's hand.

"My Lord, I must take my leave of you now, to, _take care of the charge_." She said silkily, nodding her head towards the direction of the forbidden forest. The Dark Lord nodded and raised one eyebrow.

"Indeed? I shall await your company in later hours, Nox. But I never expected you to be that…daring. " The Dark Lord said with a chuckle. Lucius thought that it looked as if someone had smashed Voldemort's face in with a very large rock.

"You'd be surprised at what I am." Nox retorted with a fanged grin, disappearing into thin air. Lucius almost cringed. They were _flirting_.

"I assume that you are enjoying the gift that the Lady has bestowed upon you?" Voldemort demanded, turning to Lucius and daring him to say that he hated vampirism. 

Lucius was about to reply when two large shadows fell over the wreckage, spots of disgusting hope for the beautiful carnage. 

*

Harry had never felt anything so wonderful in all of his life, flying under his own power, though his back was very sore, and blood was flaking everywhere-red rose petals lost forever on the wind. The red liquid had turned to a brown crackle over all of his back and hands, and it was painful at times. But the freedom and fulfilment of flying was something that he would never really tire of. Draco, who was flying beside him, had a look of concentration on his pale features, the light swimming around his frame, an angel risen, a curse forgotten. 

Harry wondered, as he concentrated himself on getting to Hogsmeade, if his change in personality had really gone that deep. He was beginning to feel a deep resentment of Dumbledore. The one who had caused all of his recent pain. Even though it was foretold a millennium or two before hand. The silver wizard had brought him to the Dursleys, under the pretence of protection. _Protection my arse!_ He knew that he shouldn't be so…Slytherin about it, but Harry wasn't willing to let this grudge die. Or many other grudges, if he really thought about it. Some of the things that _they _had done to him were downright vile. He thought back to the beginning of that summer and shuddered. Some things were just too hard to forget.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, he literally _felt_ Draco tense 10 feet away from him. As a reaction, Harry tensed as well. He had been looking ahead the entire time, so he almost missed the destruction of Hogsmeade.

Their shadows, like hulking demons on the ground, spread over a vast expanse, and those who looked up, couldn't see their featureless faces. His scar, searing with the fire of one hundred explosions, told him that Mr. Riddle was alive and well, not to mention very close. 

*

The wholesale killing of the population of Hogsmeade was moving along quite nicely. It was a pity that Nox had to miss it. Nox had been around since his first reign of terror, hiding in the shadows, digging her black talons into the Sodalicium Des Lamias. The demon vampire had been creating those like her from the time that she was made. Her evil soul (did she even have a soul?) separating and mixing with those she had made. Lucius was her most recent fledgling, a fine choice, really, though Voldemort would never say so aloud. 

The massacre was in full swing. Voldemort could tell that there was well over 100 denizens of Hogsmeade dead or dying. The Dark Lord should have known that it could not last. _That Potter boy ruins all of my fun! _The Dark Lord fought the overwhelming want to cross his arms over his chest and throw a wobbly.

The two had landed, damn them, and Voldemort was surprised to see Lucius Malfoy's son standing next to the thorn in his side. Draco was looking about; his dark wings raised high, brown cracklings all over his neck and shirt. Both of them stood out in the wreckage like demons of death and horror. The air, choked with the sound, smell, and taste of murder, wrapped around them like the forest does a wolf. Immersing them in its dark and tangible glory. Then, like the wolves, they ran, tearing Vampires away from those who still had blood in them, ripping Deatheaters away from their charges, binding them and restricting their curses. His beautiful Basilisks had all been slaughtered. Potter and Malfoy picked them off slowly, grabbing the wands of incapacitated Deatheaters. The two used any curse that they could remember, and even some that they didn't. The Basilisks fell, slowly, bleeding, limp, dead. Mark free or bloody piles of ash and scales. 

Voldemort watched as they tied up one of his newest recruits, with ropes that looked painfully tight. All the while, it seemed to be going in slow motion, the screams of those who were dying falling on deaf ears, the yells of Potter and Malfoy making even less of a sound. The haze of the battle went on forever, and Voldemort lifted up one arm and, like a thirsty man grasping at a drop of water, he tried to strangle both boys, one fair, one dark, from yards and yards away. They went on tearing and tying, trying to save whom they could.

__

Despicable, Voldemort thought, his gaze finding little Lillian, almost dead on the ground. He picked up the waif of a girl and disappeared, one battle lost, with the war to be won. 

*

Harry almost felt the Dark Lord laughing at him from many miles away. Oh, sure, they had _won_ the battle. Total count of people still living: 6. The number of deception and imitators. Harry had felt Voldemort's disappearance, the pain in his scar dissipating, leaving only the trace vestiges of pain from earlier that afternoon. It was five o clock now, he had woken up at seven, spoken with Dumbledore at eight, ran into Luscinia at eight thirty, and then at nine o clock he had gone into Dumbledore's office with Draco Malfoy. 

__

What a day. Harry thought as he sat in Dumbledore's office, wondering why there hadn't been any help from an outside force. Didn't Dumbledore have some type of Order for that? This only served to drain Harry's faith in the Headmaster, or lack there-of further. The said old man was sitting across from he and Draco, serene blue eyes twinkling, intent on the two boys in front of him. Harry fought the sudden urge, like most people that day, to roll his eyes at his superior. 

"Well boys, I must say, your wings are quite impressive, though I imagined them to be feathers." Dumbledore seemed to wrinkle his nose at this, as if he thought differently then the former statement. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"How many people are dead, Professor?" 

If the silver haired Headmaster was surprised at this question, he didn't show it, and simply said, "Seventy Five killed by the Basilisks, Fifty killed by the Vampires, Seventy three killed by the Deatheaters, and 2 that are unaccounted for. In total, two-hundred dead, six living." Both boys noticed the apathetic expression on his face and had the same thought at once, _he doesn't care_. Draco spoke up before Harry, though not to ask about the look on Professor I'm-actually-evil-and-there's-nothing-you-can-do-about-it-nyah-nyah-nyah. 

"Well, with a ratio like that, who needs pessimism?" Draco commented dryly, one silver brow raised at Dumbledore, his wings wrapped around him snugly. They had both found it very difficult to get through the door with their wings but had finally wrapped the black wings around themselves like leather cloaks. Harry wished very hard, at that moment, that he didn't have wings. Then, he felt very naked. 

He could see his pale, lean chest, as apposed to the dark coloured wings, and his back was very cold. So, apparently that was how you got rid of them. He wondered if it worked the other way, but decided to try that later. 

Dumbledore was at a loss for words and Draco was staring at him like he had grown an extra arm. "Just think about not having them, Malfoy, it worked for me." A second later the blonde sat there in the remains of his tattered, bloody shirt, shock written, momentarily, upon his features. 

"Cor, I feel nude."

Harry snorted, "Nude? Malfoy, this isn't the sixteenth century, you can say naked, bare, exposed, either one works."

"Ever hear of decency, Potter?" 

Harry shook his head slowly with a look of confusion on his face, "What is this, _'decency'_?" 

Harry watched, with some satisfaction, as Dumbledore's face contorted into a look of surprise and bemusement. Draco's eyebrows had raised, almost disappearing into his hair. Harry could almost see what Malfoy was thinking, _Since when is Harry Potter that sarcastic in front of Dumbledore? _

*

The two had been released from the shop of oddities, otherwise known as Dumbledore's office, sometime around 7:00. Harry, with the key to a flat by the west tower, and Draco with a key to a flat by the east. It was either to get them as far apart from each other as was possible, or to let absence make the heart grow fonder. Draco just thought that _Dumbledore_ thought that Harry was turning into a Slytherin too fast for his liking.

Indeed, Harry had spent the rest of their little 'office' session with Dumbledore making wry jokes and snorting more then Draco had. The Headmaster was not happy. Or at least that was what Draco was thinking when a stony faced Dumbledore had ushered them out of his office, a key in each of their hands. The wing development was surprising, and entertaining. Though at first it had hurt to fly, and he didn't even want to _think _about acquiring said wings.

Luscinia had disappeared, not that he cared anyway. The Vampire had started to wear on him (yes, in one day!), just from the meeting that morning. Why should he care? Luscinia Blackwing was just another puzzle that he _didn't _want to take the time to solve. It was just then that there was a knocking on his door.

Grumbling about evil people who interrupted his thoughts, he walked to the door very slowly, just to make the person on the other side wait. He wasn't expecting Dumbledore, and he certainly wasn't expecting his cousin, Cassandra Moon to be standing behind him. Black robes swirling about her form, fine, brown hair glinting in the setting sun. Her grey eyes glared at him and Dumbledore, coldly. 

A white mask hung from her neck.

*

In a place far away, surrounded by blackness and poison roses, the entity called Fate laughed the chains in her hand extending to the two boys, gripping them and daring them to fight. Daring them to be anything but tools. And dare they would.

__

Authors notes:

Teehee, Cliffhanger! Just because I said so! This is my longest chapter yet, I think… I'm getting better at this. So, Cassandra Moon the Deatheater. *Rubs hands together in her excitement* Yes, dear reader, Draco doesn't like Luscinia, as a matter of fact, Luscinia will be disappearing for a while, I hate having to many OC's in there at once, it gets too Mary-Sue-ish, especially if it's two females. The Vampire has actually gone off to have her wicked way with Blaise, or Flagro. (That sounds sort of like a magician: Flagro, the magnificent! *snickers*.)

I am leaving you in the dark about the Catenatus de Rosa Furvus though, at least until the 10th chapter. 

What's this I hear? Nox and Voldemort? Yes, dear reader, it is true. They were flirting. EWWWW! *Snickers* Meh, I had to have Voldie with some sort of Romantic interest, besides it will be fun to write Sentimental Emphasis on the Mental!Voldemort. Kind of like my Dark! Gothic!Harry and my Untrustworthy!Dumbledore. Oh the list goes on! 

Don't forget to review, it makes me happy, and Dark!Harry likes them too! And I started a new thing last time, I personally reply to your reviews! Uh…and please review…I like them. *Grins* I COULD set Voldemort and his rubber chicken on you if you don't…MUHAHAHAHAHAHA. 

{Dark!Harry: *Wheeble*} Stop that!

****

Luv,

Shireen Mclean


	6. White Roses Red

****

White Roses Red

Or

Stop Killing the Children

__

Many things I've seen in my life,

Many stories I've told.

And after it all the sun, she shines.

With her shimmering rays of gold.

And on the water, she sparkles like diamonds,

Faceted and pure. 

And on the trees she shines her light,

Glinting upon the summer leaves.

And on the grass, spikes of verdant colour,

The sun gleams in her fading tint of yellow.

After it all, there's more to come. 

For only fools believe mine trickery.

Draco stood in the frame of his door, staring at his cousin in shocked horror. _Deatheater. My cousin is a Deatheater. The same people whom…well…A Deatheater? _Apparently, she wasn't an inside informant to both sides. 

"Mr. Malfoy, I do believe you know Miss Cassandra Moon?" Dumbledore said severely, his old blue eyes flashing a dangerous midnight colour. The colour that you see in the angry seas; waves of dark blue water crashing upon the rocky shores of an unused beach. 

__

So…he's mad. I didn't do anything! Why is The-Professor-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named looking at me_ like that?_

Draco nodded and tried to read his cousin's facial expression; the girl was standing there looking like she was en route for the executioner's block. Her silver eyes looked from Dumbledore to Draco, her face paler then death. The Cimmerian hallway made her look like a disembodied head; inky robes melting into the shadows, her face a white oval.

"You see, when you incapacitated a number of the Deatheaters, you also rounded up Miss Moon here; one of Voldemort's newest recruits." Draco flinched. Not at the use of Voldemort's name but at the look in Dumbledore's eyes. One of pure, sick glee. _Sadistic old man_, Draco thought idly, his hand gripping the plain silver doorknob. 

They had brought all of the Deatheaters up to the castle with the help of the Auror team that had _finally _arrived. But Harry and Draco hadn't received the chance to see the people under the masks. Professor I-think-I'll-keep-you-away-from-all-of-the-good-stuff-even-though-you-brought-them-in-and-won-the-battle-just -because-I-feel-like-being-an-evil-bastard-Dumbledore, had whisked them away to his office under the pretence of quality time together with the boys. _Pft, quality time my arse,_ Draco remembered thinking as they had neared the old, stone gargoyle.

Draco stared at Professor I-can't-be-trusted blankly. "So you want me to do what, exactly? Tie her up then kill her slowly? I think that's a little harsh, don't you?" He kept his face dispassionate, his eyes flickering as Cassandra chuckled softly. 

Dumbledore's eyes were fierce and very blue at that moment. Draco _almost_ quailed. Repeat after me, _almost_. "I want you to talk to her. She might listen to you." Draco snorted at the likely hood of that happening. He could picture it now, _'Cassandra, we need to talk,_' he would say, a brotherly tone in his voice. Then she would reply in a gentle and emotional voice, _'Get stuffed, Draco.'_ Definitely _not _going to happen.

__

Sick, sick old man, Draco thought, running a hand through his hair, the other still placed firmly on the doorknob. 

Although, it would get Professor I've-got-something-nasty-up-my-sleeve away from him.

"Alright, whatever, just leave." Draco was in no mood to be polite with anyone, much less a Professor to whom he had acquired, just recently (three hours ago to be exact), a deep-seated hatred. 

Dumbledore smiled and ushered Cassandra into his room, the twinkle back in his eyes. "Good, good. I'll be on my way then." 

The second the door closed, Cassandra broke down into fits of uproarious laughter. She looked like a hissing snake, for all it was worth. Looking at her now, with tears of laughter running down her face, he wondered why, exactly, she became a Deatheater

"Cassandra, I'm going to be brutally blunt, like a Gryffindor even, what the hell are you doing and why the bloody hell are you a Deatheater?" Draco let himself cringe at his words. 

**__**

Very subtle, Malfoy, I enjoyed it. He ignored the voice in his head for the time being. 

At his sharp, clipped tones, Cassandra stood up straight and stopped laughing. "You honestly think that things haven't changed between the time that I sent you the letter and now?" she snorted and took off the robes and mask, leaving her in a white linen shirt and flowing green silk trousers. "Draco, I thought you were smarter then that. I joined, so what? Although, I didn't _like _kissing the ground that You-Know-Who walked on. I hated it actually. Not that _I didn't_ like the torturing part I liked that, it was quite fun now that I think about it." Draco watched as his cousin's innocent features warped themselves into a thoughtful expression, followed by a very sadistic far off smile. 

Cassandra had always looked very young for her age. Her height was that of an average third year and her large, innocent, eyes had fooled many a Professor. At the moment her light brown hair was hanging limply around her round cheeks, the ends jagged and sharp like knives. She had the lips of a child; heart shaped cupid's bows, pink as rose petal lips. Damn, she looked like she was eleven. The dim light in the room made her look very much like a wraith; a shadow swathed in shadows. He shook his head and scowled at her.

"I'm not even going to ask what happened to you. I don't really care. But a _Deatheater?_ Honestly, why don't you just hang a sign around your neck that says that you are the Dark Lord's sex slave!" Draco was referring to the fact that there had only been three female Deatheaters before. Two of them had carried heirs that would ascend to Voldemort's throne of darkness if anything should happen him. But they were killed weeks after their births for Voldemort was a stickler for perfection. Draco would often laugh at this while thinking sarcastically,_ Voldemort is really nice looking too._ Draco didn't like to think about the other female, for she was vile and retched: Nox. Draco decided, whilst considering those facts, that looking at Cassandra wasn't the smartest thing to do, for he was liable to kill her at any given moment.

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes very, very calm. "Draco, I am not, and never was, You-Know-Who's sex slave! And forgive me, but I think that I might disembowel you; very soon. Then I'll make you make you eat said disembowelments; forget the fact that you wouldn't even _have_ bowls anymore."

Draco glared at Cassandra and was about to say that she sounded like a particularly stupid Gryffindor, when there was a sharp knocking at the door. Draco, who thought it was Dumbledore, rolled his eyes and flung open the door, only to come face-to-face with an annoyed looking Harry Potter.

"Potter, what are you doing here? Did you get lost on your way to your room? Or do you just love me that much?" Draco jibed sarcastically, not aware that Cassandra had backed into the shadows of his room in fear. The boy at the door looked very frightening, and she didn't hear Harry's name. He gave off this sense, an aura if you will, of dark foreboding power. The aura leeched onto her skin and made her shiver with the raw pleasure and fear she felt just by being near his feeling.

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy." Harry said with the slightest rolling of his eyes, a bored expression replacing the angry annoyance that had consumed Harry's strong features when Draco had opened the door. "I'm here because Professor I-can-make-you-do-what-ever-I-want-just-because-you-trust-me, decided that you needed help with your _situation._ Only God knows why, but here I am." Draco couldn't help but notice the way Harry said it; like he would rather be fighting Voldemort (again) then helping with the 'situation.'

Harry stood there for a few seconds, looking like a creature lost among shadows. Then, the dull light in the corridor suddenly turned to a bright shade of red, the torches lighting, and Harry was bathed in a crimson fire. The reddish light played off of his features and Draco thought that the red of Harry's shirt made the black haired boy's eyes look very bright and very searching.

The Slytherin shook himself out of his daze and stepped back into the room, sitting on a dark green chair. He wished desperately, in that moment, that he could sink into it and out of existence. Sure, he didn't like Potter, but what would the black haired boy do when he saw the Deatheater robes? _Nothing good, to be sure, he'll probably fly off into a blind rage_. Draco shuddered at the thought. Somehow he thought that this Harry might be more explosive than Voldemort when in a rage. 

He found out a few moments later when Harry picked up the robes and threw them into the corner, much to the surprise of Cassandra, who got hit on the nose by the plain, white mask. 

"Bloody hell!" she shouted, tossing the garment back to Harry and stepping out of the shadows, "I have a headache you know. Not very sensitive of you to go throwing great, ugly masks at me."

Harry rolled his eyes and sat in the black chair adjacent to Draco, who was watching the exchange with much wide-eyed amusement. "Potter, meet my cousin, Cassandra Moon. Cassandra, meet Harry Potter, my tormentor." 

Harry obviously knew who she was from school and such, so he waved slightly, but Cassandra must have been surprised by this revelation.

"Potter?! What, how-uhm, oh my." Draco surpressed a chuckle at the girl's attempts at Slytherin eloquence. She must not have been expecting Harry Potter, of all people, 'to be helping with the situation.' The shock written all over her features was enough to make Harry laugh, a sound that made both Draco and Cassandra shiver with delight. 

Harry's laugh, a sound so rarely heard, was like the sound of pouring rain: pleasant to the ears, yet powerful and simple all at the same time. It made heads dizzy and tongues wet with the rolling timbre of his chuckling tenor voice. Draco found himself laughing along with Harry. And the infectious laughter of the bonded set three things into motion. 

The rust coloured light in the room, via the large orange flames in the fire-place, bathed the three of them in its blood like luminescence. The two boys barely noticed the ripping sounds and the wings issuing fourth from their backs. This was the first happening. 

Cassandra, however, did. Her eyes became wide for a fraction of a second before she fell backwards in a dead faint. Hitting the ground with a dull thump, it occurred to her, as she slipped into blissful, ignorant unconsciousness, that the two who had saved the old woman that she was subjecting to the _Cruciatus_ curse, were they. This was the second happening. 

The third, was something that had only happened one thousand years ago. The flames in the blackened grate rose to astonishing heights. Bathing the cold room with its warm, reddish-orange glow. They stopped laughing, as the flames went a pure white colour. Like new snow, or the feathers of a dove, or an angel. The empty souls of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were filled with a vast newness, a realisation of greatness and power. Like a flood of memories, of truths and of falsities. _They knew. _With out a doubt, they**_ knew_**. 

The words came swiftly, like an invisible hand scrawling upon enchanted flames with a quill made of freshly spun sugar. The words were sweet and bitter, a taste of past remembrance and of things long forgotten. 

__

Beware the souls of those forgotten.

Beware the minds of snakes and faith.

Things come swiftly after battle,

Things they come, things you hate.

Beware the sons of onyx and silver.

Those bonded under our other names.

Keep safe to yourselves your thoughts and actions.

Your beliefs of he who tricks are true.

Hold true to you and only you.

Those who read this now.

The two.

A bond.

Hold true to yourselves.

One entity in two.

Keep safe, forever, your wilted hearts.

Never give them away.

The fire of death burns in one's eyes.

The ice of forever in the other's. 

You shalt never truly die.

You will taste the blood of trueborn life.

Taste the blood.

Of life.

And from these cryptic words of olde,

Defy the trickster bold. 

We shalt come to you in some time.

'Til then, drink your fill of the vine.

They sat in a type of shell-shocked silence as the last letters ran past their eyes. The omen, words from the first bonded, were right, you really couldn't trust anyone in these dark times. 

But that was just the tip of it all. Oh yes, the tip of everything. The rest of the bleeding ice burg had yet to surface. And when it did…

And when it did, Indeed?

*

Voldemort glared at the wall from under his strands of greenish black hair. Blood was dripping from pale white wrists. Blood that was black as night, cold and dead. A knife, poised by Nox, held in her reptilian grasp. Tongue licking, teeth biting. Cold, cold blood. 

If any one found out that he wasn't who he said he was, a whirlwind would be set in motion. 

But.

There will always be those who know your secrets. There will always be those who can exploit you for what you really are. 

And when Harry Potter knows the truth; a whispered voice, a soft touch…the knife itself begins to bleed.

*

Harry touched the feather that had swept to the ground. A black feather, the colour so deep that it drew in the hues of blue and green. Why feathers? What happened to the semblance of black leather? The demonic thirst for blood that rose in him quelled as he stroked the feather softly. Its down was like none other, a soft evil. Soft bliss. Touching ignorance. The rich, supple hide had fallen off in large strips, exposing black as night feathers to the world. 

Draco stood beside him in the black of night, his own 'molting' leaving him with soft white down. Pale, like every thing else about Draco. Soft to touch; yet underneath - cold, piercing and hard. Snow is white. And if you are left long enough outside in the snow, destitute, abandoned, frostbitten- you die. Just like that. _Draco is like snow_. 

They had gathered up the folds and strips of the leather-like material, and placed them in the wardrobe in Harry's room. _The fine, supple material might be useful_. Harry remembered Draco saying that Harry himself should make some leather pants. Harry had scoffed (while telling Draco that he already had a pair of leather pants) and charmed his half into a coat. The coat which he wore now, with holes for his wings. Draco had laughed at his pile and waved his wand lazily. The scraps had formed into a very similar jacket. Ankle length; smooth lines and tailored cuts. Yes, Malfoy and Potter did strange things when spurred.

They had tried their absolute damnedest to get rid of the newly shaped wings, but to no avail. They didn't know what they would do when school came in a month, but figured that they could at least play a very fierce game of Quidditch if no other solution could be found. They hadn't gone to Professor Trust-me-when-I give-you-the-puppy- dog-eyes-Dumbledore because of the fire omen. If that was indeed what it was. 

Draco had placed Cassandra on his bed, saying that she didn't need to be surrounded by the angels of Life and Death (as he had taken to calling himself and Harry, respectively) when she woke up. Harry had thought at the last second to write a note, saying that she could go to Dumbledore (or as Draco had put it in the letter, 'the old codger who you should hold no trust for, whatsoever') and ask him about accommodations for the rest of the summer.

The thought passed Harry's mind, momentarily, that perhaps with his new found understanding of the bond, Voldemort, and Dumbledore, he should stop going to Hogwarts. But his soul, the entity within him, shot that idea down. 

**__**

After all, You and Draco couldn't raise the Dragon in the Chamber of Secrets if you were off in France or Canada.

The voice startled him and he opened his eyes to see Draco looking at him knowingly. "You've heard them too, haven't you?" 

"Them who?" 

"The voices. You know. The whispers and gentle breezes…no, I'm going to stop right there. I sound like I put St. Mungo in business." 

Harry chuckled slightly and watched as Draco's eyes lit up momentarily. "And here I thought that I was going insane!"

"Too late." Draco jibed, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Shut it, Malfoy. As I was saying, do you think that it is Heron and Domonik?"

Draco closed his eyes, colourless lashes blending with colourless skin, "It's so weird to hear you refer to him by his first name. I'm so used to the second one."

Harry nodded as Draco opened his eyes. "I know, I'm still getting the feel of it. After all, he couldn't be my soul if he didn't have my name, now could he?" 

Draco shook his head. "Domonik- that's my second name. It explains a few things. I had always wondered why I had an exotic second name."

Harry snorted, "And Draco isn't _slightly _exotic?" Harry turned away from Draco, his expression suddenly thoughtful. "He's coming you know? He wants us." A sigh escaped his lips, thoughts of bright eyes and friendship passing his vision.

"In a month and one day, Potter. Take what comes as it comes." 

Harry smiled; remembering words spoken and faded memories. He hadn't thought of Cedric or of the Triwizard Tournament. He didn't intend to. "I suppose we should."

*

Draco watched as Harry's eyes closed, black strands of silk imprinted upon frosty cheeks. _Harry Potter is an Enigma. _He thought, a slight summer breeze wafting through his silk spun hair. They stood in silence, the night like a long lost lover. Embracing them both in her arms, holding them, singing. 

A soft murmur.

"What was that, Potter?" Draco inquired, still not turning to face the black haired young man.

"Stop killing the children, you're getting blood on the roses." Harry's voice replied, even toned and completely serious. Draco was probably the only person who truly understood his meaning; he continued the train of thought:

"Indeed old man, stop killing the children. Spirits are long dead, white roses red. Stop killing the children, the angels hath said." (For Atawalpa, she who loves Imagery)

*

Harry frowned; he could see the roses. 

"Oh, and Potter?" Harry heard Draco intone.

"Yes."

"Happy Birthday."

"Indeed, Malfoy. Happy Birthday, indeed."

They stood there for hours, each contemplating the other. Roses dead. Blackened with red blood. 

__

'Stop killing the children, old man. Spirits long dead, white roses black. Stop killing the children, even the demons want them back.'

*

And as all things, hours passed into days, which passed into weeks. And soon, a month and one day later, school began a new. The tittering of first to seventh year girls. The blind naïveté of the students was surprising the two. But the school was quiet in its blissful ignorance. Quiet in its silent biding of time. Classes started; the same teachers, the same mundane pattern. Of course, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was a tad flamboyant, but these days, who isn't? Snape was still mean and sarcastic: a shade of the man he once was. McGonagall was still strict: a force not to be reckoned with on the best of days. Sprout was still flyaway and kind: a Hufflepuff to the end. Flitwick was still small and energetic: half goblin some supposed. Trelawney? Well, neither Harry nor Draco resumed her class in Fifth year. Hooch was as athletic as the day they met her: ever the professional they say. Hagrid was still monster crazy: some things will never change. And Dumbledore? He was as crazy and untrustworthy as they had ever seen him. Hermione and Ron lived for him, the Prefects of Gryffindor tower. 

Harry would later resolve this issue. How? I won't say. But the issue was this: Ron and Hermione came back to the school and started to nag. And worry, and pinch, and prod, and stick their noses into places where they didn't belong. They assumed Harry was changed because of the Triwizard Tournament. _If they only knew._ (If YOU only knew, hehehe) Hermione was as intellectually based as always: trying to find a sound reason for Harry's behaviour. Ron was as he always was: hotheaded and Gryffindoric. He assumed that the Slytherins had corrupted Harry. _Pft,_ Harry remembered thinking as he overheard this conversation, _like I'm going to be around those who would hate me if they knew._ He noticed Ron and Hermione talking in hushed tones many times, whispers and murmurs escaping their quiet corner. Heads bent in thought and suspicion. _Yes, they would hate me if they knew. _

Hermione never ceased in telling him to stop blaming himself. She just didn't seem to understand the fact that he _wasn't _blaming himself for anything. That was the first part of the summer. He remembered the guilt and the pain, but he got over it. He knew who's fault it was. He knew. 

__

Oh…he knew. 

He would get a far away look in his eyes when he talked with the voices. Ron and Hermione seemed to get it into their heads that he was thinking about Cedric when he did this. So, naturally, he was assaulted with a barrage of, "Oh Harry, it isn't your fault"s and, "You-Know-Who did it"s. Upon which he would shake his head at their fear of the name and leave to go to his oft used flat. 

Dumbledore had decided that Harry and Draco both needed 'retreats' to think about their growing bond and strengths. What his ulterior motive was, it was anyone's guess. Draco had suggested, when they were outside walking around the lake, that Dumbledore had 'snitched' the rooms. 'Snitched' was the wizard term for bugging. Harry had laughed at the image of many little golden balls squirming between his mattresses. He remembered the conversation as going something like this:

__

"I don't see why the Devil's Potato (as they had taken to calling Dumbledore, whom, they agreed, was Satan himself)_ let us have the privacy of those rooms if he's so untrustworthy." Harry said, his hands pushed into his pockets, wings draped around him like some gaudy jacket._

Draco looked thoughtful for a second, his own wings like a coverlet of snow. The leather of his coat underneath gleaming in the summer sunlight, "He probably snitched the rooms."

Harry, who was still getting used to the wizarding world five years later stopped and stared, "What? Snitched? Like, telling on someone? Or the golden balls?"

Draco chuckled slightly, "Potter, you ignoramus, telling on someone might be right, but Quidditch has nothing to do with it. It's a method of espionage. You know, spying_."_

__

Harry rolled his eyes, "Like bugging, I get it now. And I'm not that stupid, I know what espionage _is."_

Draco nodded and said mockingly, "Of course_ you do…"_

"Shut up."

Draco pouted.

"And who uses the word ignoramus_?! Please, first_ nude_, then this. I swear, you are from the sixteenth century."_

"Better the sixteenth century then Muggle-ville." Draco pointed out.

It had gone downhill from there. 

The wings, they discovered, would be there forever. During the feast in the Great Hall, on the first day back, the students had looked at them as if they were the bringers of life and death. As if they were anyone but who they said they were. This was of course heightened by the fact that Harry looked more like a Vampire then he did Harry Potter. The girls had swooned, fawning over his wings and slender form. Ginny Weasley in particular had blushed and hidden underneath the table, scared that he might look at her and the rather large red spot on her nose. That had gone something like this:

__

Harry and Draco walked into the hall, chatting amicably, their long coats and wings brushing against the floor as they glided along innocently, talking of Dragons and Quidditch. Neither had noticed the dead silence, but they did notice when the screams started.

"Bloody hell, Potter, what are they screaming at?" Harry started as he heard Draco's voice over the din. 

"Us, I suppose, why do you think that is?" He replied offhandedly, leaning against the wall and chuckling as Hermione and Ron came forth, their wands in their hands, whispering to each other. 

"Oh, gee, just possibly the wings, or you know, the fact that we look like Vampires!" Draco's whisper was soft and sounded as if he was trying to hold in laughter. Harry could bet that Draco was enjoying _the pandemonium. "Oh, Potter, look, your fan club."_

"Don't talk about Hermione and Ron like that, Malfoy, they've done nothing to warrant your or my abuse." _He heard rather than saw Draco sniff._

"That's what you think." _But they couldn't continue their conversation as Hermione and Ron had stepped up to Harry, glaring and muttering to one another. _

"…evil…"

"…look…dark…You-Know-Who…" Harry rolled his eyes, and glanced at Draco from underneath his slightly curly curtain of hair.

Typical, go for the one with black wings, the dark one. Otherwise know as your best friend, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Die. _As Harry thought this, Ron shouted something akin to, _Petrificus Totalus _to which, Harry and Draco laughed._

"Honestly, Ron, is that any way to greet your best friend?" Harry's eyes danced with mirth as he watched the anger on Ron and Hermione's faces turn to confusion and then relief, finally settling upon anger again. Harry smirked as Ron advanced upon him.

"What has happened to you, Harry?" The red-head spat, glaring at the wings, absence of glasses and school uniform, a green cloud obscuring the natural ice blue hue of Ron's eyes. The prefect badge glinted upon his robes. The entire hall seemed to breathe just a bit easier, that is, until Draco raised his wings and growled. Ron turned to Draco and Harry watched as he snarled, "And why the hell_ are you with Malfoy?!"_

"I grew up. Honestly, Ron, put petty house rivalries behind you and grow up." Harry rolled his eyes and winked at Draco just as Hermione came forward and touched his cheek.

"Harry, what are you?" She asked, tears in her eyes.

Draco, Harry noted, had been silent long enough. The blond seemed to think the same and spoke up, "He's what he was-is_- meant to be, Granger. If you can't see that, then you are not as smart as you boast to be." At this, the occupants of Hogwarts came out of their stupor and looked at the two. The males looked repulsed and slightly jealous. The girls began to swoon, sighing at their appearances. Harry rolled his eyes as Ginny ducked under the Gryffindor table._

Harry sighed and glanced at Ron and Hermione with what he hoped was a convincing regretful eye. Hermione was beginning to cry and Ron looked betrayed. The tension mounted and Harry spoke to them in a voice so soft that he assumed only Draco, Ron, and Hermione could hear.

"When and if you grow up, talk to me. But, I don't know if you really ever will."

"That's low." Ron said, glaring at Harry, his blue eyes flashing.

Two sets of eyes looked up at him, one set was green: The colour of emeralds, black flecks of knowledge and power shining deep with in. Eyes so like the killing curse they could make Voldemort shudder. The other set, the colour of silver, or unpolished diamonds, glinting under the dim light of the Great hall. Eyes so like storm clouds that people shielded themselves against them like they would lightning. 

"No, Weasley…" Draco began.

"…that's life." Harry finished, following Draco to the Slytherin table. 

"Do people ever grow up, Malfoy?" Harry remembered asking Draco when they sat down a voice akin to a child asking why the world is round of their parents falling from his lips.

"Some, do. Others-" Harry remembered Draco inclining his head toward the Gryffindor table, a serious yet amused expression glancing his features. "-never do and never will."

Draco, of course, was lapping up all of this attention. His Slytherin friends laughing at the outtakes of the female population of Gryffindor. Harry would oft sit with the Slytherins and sup, the astonished looks on the Gryffindors' faces priceless every single time. The first time he had sat over with the 'fanged fiends (as the Gryffindors said behind his back)' they had also stared at him. First, murderously, then incredulously, then, in respect for the sheer will power that it took to sit with mortal enemies. Cassandra Moon was particularly respectful after an episode that summer that involved flames, a Deatheater costume, blood, and Cassandra. But why sweat the details. Harry didn't plan to go back to when the walls bled fire, and neither did Draco or Cassandra. 

There was still animosity between Harry and a lot of the Slytherin house, namely Cassandra, as she was still, technically under the service of Voldemort. To which, Harry scoffed, _'Who cares?'_ He remembered pointing out, _'Its not like you've tried to kill me in my sleep, and…now that I think about it, I _did _remove all sharp objects from your reach.' _Miss Moon was in no way happy about that. 

Harry was still sarcastic, cheeky and Slythafied around Dumbledore. A surprising thing to most of their classmates. But as Harry saw it, what could Dumbledore do? Throw him out of Hogwarts? No, the old man needed him too much for that. 

The Gryffindors had decided that Harry was a traitor two weeks into the year (though the girls still swooned behind the boy's backs). Though the red haired Weasel and Hermione Granger had decided that Harry was just feeling guilty. Still, Harry never slept in the Gryffindor dorms and only went there to make sure he hadn't left anything behind on his commute between his flat and said dorms. 

The Quidditch team, however, was a different story. He loved Quidditch, but he couldn't play any more. People saw his wings as an advantage or a disadvantage. Either way, he and Draco had been sacked from their House Teams. He remembered talking to the blond haired young man about it, one garnet-esq tear making its way down each of their cheeks. They had to put it behind them, shortly. And they did, taking to going flying every night. Draco, like a spot of light in the withering darkness. Harry, like the night itself, dark, smooth, and free.

During the summer, they had discovered two things. The first being the fact that their tears had a red tint to them. Like the crystal sparklings of rubies and garnets. Tears of the Bonded, was what the fire omens had called them. The second, being the next contact from the realm of souls. Or from deep inside of Draco and Harry themselves. 

It went something like this:

__

Come lo, thou children of the night.

Come lo and take up our earthly fight.

Hide not, behind thine wings of down.

Hide not, behind your grassy mounds.

Find safety with each other now.

Find love with no one new.

Do not forsake your cause of now.

Do not forget your roots.

Beware the childe of the night.

Beware the end of fifths.

Hold safe to what will happen now.

Hold safe to what you believe. 

Forget the teachings of your youth.

Forget the friends you had.

Remember the souls you have inside.

Remember snakes and faith.

The immortal soul is in you now.

And immortal you shall be.

Blood falls from walls.

It drowns the halls.

It bathes the streets in crimson.

The little girl, she is the key.

Take care and always listen. 

It seemed, though, that there was more to the whole situation then that which met the eye.

*

Draco sighed and looked over to where Granger and Weasley had taken up accosting Harry. He could tell that the other boy wasn't going to be holding his annoyance in much longer. Yes, he could tell. The ebony feathers cascading down the ridged wings were one sign; bristled and sharp looking. The furrow in his dark brow was another. But the most tell tale sign was the voice yelling in his head:

__

He's going to blow!

****

I know that, you know that, he knows that.

Of course I know that.

Potter?

Who were you expecting? There's more then one voice in each of our heads, Malfoy. Mine just happens to be one of the ones in yours. Sort of a mind link that goes along with this bond thing.

Fun, now you're with me where ever I go! A basilisk could see the sarcasm.

__

And you think I enjoy you in my head?!

Well…no.

Then shut it and let me handle this.

****

Well said.

Hmm…not very Slytherin of you.

__

Shut up, Domonik.

Draco couldn't be sure if it _wasn't _all in his head, but Harry seemed to have warded off the terrible twosome and was stalking his way over to Draco, an irate look upon his strong features. Harry had taken to looking like his face should have been profiled upon a silver Roman coin. His jaw line was strong and well set, and his nose was neither too short nor too long for his face. His expressive mouth and pink lips never truly smiled anymore, and his eyes were clouded with a dark green fog. Flecks of blackened colour spattering his iris. The longish black lashes contrasted severely with his pale features and his hair had grown and now reached his chin. (That's for perionan, she who enjoys my Harry and my Draco) 

"Strange occurrences, these." Harry said when he was three feet away from Draco's 'person.' 

"Hmm, so we're all in the same loony bin then?" Harry nodded.

__

Looks that way.

Draco started, "Don't _do _that!"

*

__

One month and Two weeks earlier…

Luscinia glared at Blaise, her red eyes like a bleeding wound, the colour of blood spreading to the farthest rims of her iris, the black of her pupil contrasting slightly.

"Naughty, Naughty, you got caughty." She said spontaneously. Flagro (remember, this is Blaise in vampiric form) looked at her in surprise. 

"_What?_"

Luscinia laughed a harsh, hissing laugh that would do Nox proud. "I've found you, Blaise."

"Flagro." The black haired youth preened.

She snorted, "Oh, is that your prize for changing little old me? A new name?" Her emotionless voice became childish and young.

"Luscinia…don't you like your new form?"

"Well…yes." She seemed to waver slightly from her hold upon his neck.

"Then why am I held up against a wall?" He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Because I want to kill you." She said simply, a look on her face that said anything but. 

Blaise chortled and pried her fingers away from his shirt, "I'm your sire, Luscinia, you can't hurt me, I _can _hurt you. Don't you know the mythology of your own kind?"

Luscinia snarled, "You are _not _my kind."

Blaise chuckled, _just wait and see. _"Have you killed yet, childe?"

"Yes."

"Human?" Blaise let his voice remain calm as he took a step nearer to Luscinia, a thought niggling at the back of his head.

"Y-no." Luscinia looked shocked at her own revelation.

"Nuh-uh, can't hurt the sire, can't lie to the sire. Would you like to know what it is like to kill a human? To taste the one sweet life essence that will forever run down the tongues of the immortals?"

Luscinia remained silent, Blaise took it to mean that yes, she did want it. She wanted it so, so bad. A sire always knows his fledgling. _Always. _He snapped pale fingers and a young man was thrown into the room. Light blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin. Luscinia looked at him hungrily. "Now who does this-" he kicked the human, "remind you of?"

"You know damn well who he reminds me of." A soft groan from the human caused her eyes to glow brighter in colour. 

Blaise said one simple word, a word that set the world in motion, "Eat."

And she did. He watched as she attacked the pale, graceful neck with a sick glee that is brought on by the first execution. By the first bite. Blood dripped down the white neck in ribbons of crimson. He watched hungrily. Like a voyeur of the most sadistic intent. When she was done, he gathered her up in his arms and forced her to look at him. She did, her eyes a dull violet colour. He saw that the blood traced her lips and made her tongue red. And he did what came naturally.

He kissed her, drinking the blood that was upon her lips, biting her own with undaunted fervor. They licked and tasted and bit and sucked. The blood exchange of Vampires is something perfect and beautiful. Something secretly masochistic.

You see, Vampires are not as you and I. Teenage hormones are nothing. They have the mindset of one hundreds of years older. They do not breathe; their hearts are dead. But their bodies…well, that is another story. Another story all together. One that can not be posted at this level of rating. 

*

Lucius Malfoy sighed as he looked at the dead body in front of him. He enjoyed this gift. This pleasure of partaking the blood. But those two…he thought back with a shudder to Voldemort and Nox. Those two would kill everyone, whether they stole the blood or tortured their victims. _Those two will kill us all._

*

With a sigh and a soft chuckle, Harry landed next to Draco Malfoy. The two had been joking about what Hermione and Ron had cooked up to bring him back to 'the right side of things.' It was everything to killing the Hogwarts cheese ('does Hogwarts even _have _cheese?') to joking about whips and handcuffs ('kinky Gryffindors') (that's for you, VM, she who kills cheese and Draco…he who is obsessed with whips and handcuffs).

The soft surrounding night kissed them soundly as they made their way back to the castle wings like gaudy jackets. 

Once in the safety of their own, 'snitched,' rooms did they realise that they shared dreams. Yes, dreams. They both dreamt that things were different. That under any other circumstance… but things are impossible this day and age.

__

Night, Potter.

Shut up, Malfoy.

You too, Scar face.

*

****

Things shall come and things shall go.

Friendship blooms.

Rightly So.

Blankly things will stare you in the eyes.

Truthful thoughts, ought but lies.

Things I tell you, I say them now.

Turn back, beware, before it all comes down.

Brave souls shall fight thee, brave souls shall win.

And still beauty remains, unhindering

Those who wish it to be as it was,

Yes beauty remains, a beauty few can claim.

Boast, sir not. Keep safe thine choice. Beware, beware.

For you shall die. 

Eventually.

Remember the souls, they can not speak.

Remember the choices, we have to make.

And as love lost sails on open lakes.

Remember, your love, of all you shalt take.

Remember your hate, thrice your pain shalt wake.

Author's Maunder: Dear look at this chapter! 6 684 words! That's a record for me. YAY. I know that it's confusing, Heron and Domonik and the omens and such, but everything will be explained in the end. I bet there are a few things that you didn't expect in this chapter. Suicidal!Voldemort for one. But I must confess, I'm boosting this story up to an R; it only gets worse from here on in. Vampires are sexual/violent and sexually violent creatures! Not to mention the blood and pain only escalates. Yes, it does. *rubs hands together in secret sadistic fashion* I'm very excited to say that this should be 25 chapters long. BUT I don't really know that for sure, it could be shorter if I keep turning out chapters like this. I've tried to establish the fact that my OC's are just that, but not Mary-Sues or Gary-Stues. I know that Harry is OC, but that's the point. You'll understand when I explain the bond or the link and WHO exactly Heron is and why people are used to referring to him by his middle and last names. I've given many hints throughout the first four chapters and many in this one. I'll understand if you flame me, really I will. I know that it is VERY difficult to understand, but trust me, everything WILL be explained. No one really got the fact that I wasn't going to leave Harry and Draco with demonic wings. I just couldn't do it! So, I changed it on a whim… yes a whim! Anyway, I must take my leave as it is late, my head is sore and my cat is mauling me!

Shireen Mclean.

Ps: I'm going to ask a question, Who do YOU think Heron and Domonik are? They are_ HP related…so, they are not from other books. Domonik is a character of my own making, sort of. His last name is not mine. Heron has already been mentioned in the HP books many times, but by his middle and last names. Spot the clues. Spot yon clues._

PPs: Uh…that last poem thing is not a prophecy of sorts, just a foreshadowing to things that may or may not arise. 

Next Chapter: More Blaise and Luscinia. A talk with Lucius, Nox, and Voldemort . Harry and Draco semi bonding. Ron and Hermione- brazen Griffindoric-ness. Professor Snape. Hagrid. And more of Dumbledore's unpleasantness. All that and more in the next episode of, "Roses Black" "The Number of Deception" In other words, the chapter will commence on the sixth of October, six being the evil number.


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